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pasukiyo · 4 months ago

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A PLACE IN THE SEA OF STARS

anakin skywalker x f!naberrie!reader word count: 10.4k (my longest yet... i'm so sorry) warnings: two idiots pining, pining, reader is padme's younger sister (whether biological or adopted is up to you), first time having sex, soft smut, angst synopsis: a life spent in padmé amidala's shadow and never once did she ever think she'd be envious of her sister. that is, until anakin skywalker walks his way into her life and she finds herself praying that one day, he'd look at her the way he does at padmé, that she'll be given a place in the sea of stars, that her destiny will include him.

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It came as no surprise that Anakin Skywalker would be enamored with her second-to-oldest sister.

After a life spent behind Padmé Amidala’s shadow, she’d grown accustomed to it— being overlooked. But for once, just this once, she wished history wouldn’t repeat itself, wished the prophecy could be rewritten and for once, let it be her who was chosen, who was noticed.

But of course, it’s futile.

You can sink to your knees and pray to whatever higher being is in the sky but at the end of the day, there are millions of lost souls just like you doing the same. You can have faith, you can believe that someday you’ll be heard but with each silent day that passes, your voice still falls on deaf ears.

She’s done her time playing the fool who sinks to her knees and pleads with the night sky to find her a place in the sea of stars, so that she may fit in a constellation too. She’s been the statue who's been made to wait— and she’s started to crumble.

She remembers the day she started to pray like it was yesterday. It was the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, back when he was only a Padawan, still searching for his own place in the world. Her parents were restless then, having heard of the multiple assassination attempts on their dear second oldest daughter. Of course she was worried too, but she still could feel the guilt that settled into the marrow of her bones when she found herself pondering whether her parents would react the same way if it had been her life at stake instead.

She remembers helping her eldest sister, Sola, and her mother with dinner in preparation for the arrival of their sister Padmé and her Jedi escort. She’d been tasked with bringing a bowl of fruit to the table and she remembered nearly being trampled over by her nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, as they squeal Padmé’s name, sprinting for the door.

She remembers huffing, mumbling a curse in an alien language beneath her breath just as their guests step inside, looking up from where she leaned over the table, dropping the bowl down onto the surface. She remembers her breath catching in her throat when her gaze found a sea of blue that put the Naboo waters to shame.

Padmé’s lips curved into a grin as she exclaimed her sister’s name, circling the table to capture her in an embrace. Her sister wrapped her arms around her and her chin found Padmé’s shoulder as the blue that took her breath away crashed into her and she swore everything changed in that moment.

She remembers the first time Anakin Skywalker looked at her. It was a brief, friendly locking of the eyes but a fleeting moment for him felt like lightyears for her. His eyes were the blue of the water where the sun’s reflection gently ripples and warps. They were the blue of the sky after it rains and the sun begins to spill through the cracks of the wall of clouds.

She’s never understood what it meant to be speechless, for something to literally steal the breath away from her lungs. But from the moment her eyes met his, she began to understand.

“Anakin! This is my youngest sister,” Padmé announced, pulling away from their embrace. Her spine stiffened when her sister introduced her and she watched as his full, pink lips moved to form her name. His voice is like nails scraping against the itch she can’t reach on her back, his voice is like velvet she can swallow, deliciously soft and rich against her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Anakin dipped his chin in greeting, the silly, little braid falling off his shoulder. She drained the lump that had formed in her throat, bowing her head. Her lips trembled and her breath was shaky as she prepared her salutations but her words fell dead on the tip of her tongue when Padmé’s squeal permeated the room.

“And my eldest sister Sola!”

And just like that, all attention rolled away from her and onto her eldest sisters but she still watched him, heart beating against her chest.

And that was the moment she began to pray.

She prayed, even though the looks he’d given Padmé didn’t go unnoticed. The way he watched her, even when she wasn’t the one speaking, the way he’d soak in every word, every praise for her that fell past her parents’ mouths. The way he stared longingly at her sister when he was certain nobody was watching— and no one was, for their attentions were on Padmé, save for hers.

It was typical.

It should come as no surprise that everyone would worship the ground her sister— the former Queen, current Senator of Naboo— walked on. She’s not surprised that someone young and benign like him would fall in love with her sister— she’d only seen it happen more times than she ever really cared to count.

And she’d never really cared about all the suitors on their knees at Padmé’s feet before— they were her sister’s problems, not hers. She’d never even really envied her sister, at least in that sense.

But everything changed the moment Anakin stepped through the door. Everything changed the moment their eyes met, if only for the most fleeting of seconds.

So she prayed.

Inside the inner realms of her mind, she sinks to her knees and stares into the void above her, the stars that beamed down at her twinkling, almost as if they taunted her. She swallowed her pride, folding her hands together and raising them to her chin, brow dipping as she pleaded with the higher being in the sky to hear her cry.

“Please, hear me, Maker,” she whispered into her mind, externally staring at Anakin, internally losing her gaze amongst the stars as if the Maker himself would appear between them. “Hear my plea. Whatever destiny you’ve pre-written for me, please be sure it includes Anakin Skywalker.”

She didn’t see Anakin Skywalker again for another year after that.

Apparently, being a Jedi means he’s constantly from place to place, but next time they do end up in the same place, it’s even more fleeting than the last. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again, if she was foolish to continue hoping that he might notice her, that he might even love her. But she still remembers the way his eyes flickered in recognition when they caught hers across the courtyard of Theed Royal Palace. His hair was longer and he didn’t have that ridiculous braid or tiny ponytail on the back of his neck anymore. The Chancellor was speaking to him and another Jedi with umber hair and a matching beard, but his attention was on her.

He looked… darker. As if the years of war had finally begun taking its toll on him. But he’s still the same man he’s always been, still the same one she’s dreamed about. He even looked better.

They don’t get the chance to talk, only share knowing glances, as he was on duty and their paths unfortunately didn’t cross. But that gleaming in his eyes, the one that blazes with knowing is all the kindling in the pit of her belly needs to bloom, to blossom into a raging wildfire.

So, she prayed again.

“Maker,” she said into that night sky inside of her head. The stars shone brighter, as if to laugh at the foolish girl beneath them. She ignored them of course— because she truly believed that one day, she’d prove them wrong. “Please. Hear my plea. Let Anakin Skywalker see me again. Give me a place in your sea of stars and make sure it is in Anakin Skywalker’s orbit.”

She doesn’t see him again for another two years.

But still, he lingers, just like a phantom weaving through every corner she passes, cloaked in shadow. She sees Anakin Skywalker everywhere she goes— in the lakes of shining waters out in the country, in the rain that falls on a dark, cloudy day, in the litany of stars that idle in the sky.

She sees him in her dreams, staring the way he did at Padmé. Only, in her dreams, his gaze finds her. Almost like he had that day in the courtyard, but in her dreams, his eyes would linger longer.

His voice calls out to her whenever she’s sleeping and it lingers in gooseflesh on her skin, frosting over her bones. She’ll open her eyes when he calls but she’s never truly awake. Alas, if dreaming is the only way she’ll see Anakin Skywalker again, she’d gladly succumb to her sleep and trick herself into believing it is real.

Except tonight, she does not think she can take it much longer.

“Anakin,” she whispers one day when she peels her eyelids open after he calls. She says his name like it’ll be the last time she ever will. That look is on his face again— the one she’s seen so many times directed at her in her dreams, she’s nearly forgotten it wasn’t meant for her in the first place.

She used to wake and long for sleep to come again, just so she could watch him look at her like that.

But three long years of waiting and foolishly praying to beings who do not hear have begun to rust the illusion she’s deluded herself into hopelessly believing in. Three long years of silence and she’s finally cracked. She is broken— she sees it now. She’s grown weary of hoping he’d be the one to fix her.

His lips curve to form a smile and for three years, she’s fooled herself into believing it could be for her— truly be for her, outside of her dreams. But to be forthright, she’s tired. She’s grown tired of pretending, tired of clinging onto the dying embers of mere memories of how a man looked at someone that wasn’t her— but rather her sister. She’s grown tired of hoping, waiting, praying that one day, he may wander back into her life and thread his way into the tapestry that her destiny’s been woven into.

Tonight is the night she forfeits with her palms to the sky, tonight is the night she yields to the stars that have taunted her for far too long and admits her defeat. That they were right all along. Tonight is the night she blows away the ashes she’s desperately held so close to her chest and sealed away in secret urns inside for far too long.

Tonight is the night she lets go.

When she wakes the following morning, birds chirp outside her window. Sunlight spills into her room as it rises over the mountains across the lake and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. Today is merry— it is the day her sister, Padmé Amidala, marries.

Today is merry but instead, she feels dread seep into the marrow of her bones. She’s happy for her sister, really, she is, but it serves only as a reminder that her time is ticking, and time has turned vexing. It serves as a reminder that she must make haste to find her own purpose, to find someone who will cherish her the way she’s spent many fortnights dreaming about. Sola’s already married and found her purpose, and Padmé’s had her entire life laid out before her since she was only fourteen years of age.

Sola, the wife and mother, Padmé, the Queen and then the Senator, and then there’s her. Unsure. Undecided. An ellipsis.

She’s envious. How could she not be? She’s envious that she’ll never be the perfect mother like Sola, envious that she’ll never live up to Padmé’s legacy, she’s even grown envious of the stars: they simply idle in the night sky but even their idleness has a purpose because their places have reason, to create constellations that in turn, tell stories.

She knows that after today, the pressure of fulfilling whatever destiny’s been written for her will only further suffocate her. She will suffocate beneath the weight of this pressure and she will be expected to continue breathing. She’s tried for so long to keep the air in her lungs but it’s so hard when with each day that passes by, the darkness grows more appealing.

She’s tried so hard to find the right path she’s supposed to take, but there are so many roads, so many choices and so many consequences. She’s afraid— and it’s why she’s allowed herself to hide in her sisters’ shadows for so long. But it feels so stifling now.

She sighs and blinks up to the terracotta ceiling. And then of course, dread wears her bones for an entirely different reason. Because it’s inevitable that she’s going to see Anakin Skywalker today. And things will be different.

It’s been lingering like an annoying, little insect since Padmé announced she’d invited her Jedi friends to the wedding, ever since she heard Anakin’s name being read off the list. Things were certain to change because he is but a mere guest, and not the groom.

It may have come as no surprise that Anakin would fall for her, but it certainly came as a shock that Padmé wouldn’t fall for him.

It makes her flesh blaze with a strange anger she’s not quite sure how to describe. How could her sister have something she so desperately wanted but not pursue it? How could she reject Anakin when he would willingly break and bend to her every whim? Why must her sister take his infatuation for granted— why could it not be given to her instead?

She thinks it must be some cruel trick the Maker is playing on her, dangling Anakin in front of her like that, cursing him with an unrequited love when she was right there. She thinks it must be the Maker’s— damn him— cruel way of taunting her, as if the sneering stars had eyes, his eyes. Even if part of her is relieved Anakin is not marrying her sister, it still feels like a blaster wound to her chest, puncturing her skin and searing her insides.

She hears her name called from outside her room’s door and groans.

“What do you want?” She replies in displeasure as the door slides open. Her eldest sister, Sola, steps into the room and glowers at her youngest sister’s tone.

“Well, good morning sunshine,” Sola remarks and she rolls her eyes. Sola makes her way towards the bed, dropping a dress the color of fire onto the mattress. “Is there a reason for your ill-temper today?”

She pushes herself to sit upright, wrinkling her nose at the dress as she takes a fistful of it in her hand. “Orange?” She scoffs, tossing it back down onto the bed. “I thought we were wearing blue?”

Sola shrugs, plopping down onto the mattress. “Padmé changed her mind last minute,” she says. “I suppose if we wore blue, we’d mesh with the background, don’t you think?”

She sighs and flops back down against her pillows, one arm folded over her stomach, the other folded behind her head. Sola pokes her forefinger against her knee and she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the ceiling.

“Now, answer the question,” her oldest sister insists. “What’s the matter with you?”

Her eyelids flutter closed and she wishes more than anything that she could simply wink out of existence. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be here for Padmé, she does, but she’s uncertain how she could possibly explain how she feels to Sola in a way she could understand. It’s exactly this that’s made her feel so alone all these years.

She’s never had someone who could understand her, really get her. She’s always been different from her sisters, even before marriage and coronations and political promotions. It’s something she’s certain her sisters have known, that even her parents must’ve known. She’s never been jovial and nurturing like Sola, or clever and independent like Padmé. She’s always preferred silence and privacy, and maybe that’s been her problem. But it’s all she knows, being alone.

Sola’s never spent years yearning for a boy who yearns for another, so she couldn’t possibly understand. She doesn’t think she could even make her understand.

She sighs, lolling her head to the side until her gaze finds Sola’s.

“Not looking forward to wearing that dress for the entire evening,” she says instead. Sola’s eyes roll and she leans over to pinch her calf beneath the covers. She hisses and swats her sister’s hand away as she clicks her tongue, moving out of the way.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Sola tries to reason.

“It’s hideous,” she deadpans.

Sola deflates with the acceptance of her defeat. She grabs her sister’s knee, giving it a shake. She glares at her older sister.

“Come on, that can’t be the only reason why you’re in such a foul mood,” Sola insists, her bottom lip rolling in a pout and she swears it’s almost comical how her eldest sister can act like such a child. It’s a wonder how she has children of her own.

She blinks at Sola as a sort of realization creeps onto her eldest sister’s face and she blinks, internally grimacing. For she knows that whatever is bound to come out of her sister’s mouth next is going to be completely and utterly wrong.

“I think I get it now,” Sola’s tone is softer, her face falling to match it. “You’re upset you’ll be the last of us to be married.”

And there it is.

She internally cringes at just how wrong Sola is but she says nothing, further prompting her sister to lean forward, reaching for the hand that rests on her stomach. Her muscles stiffen when she takes it and she wills herself to stay still. It was better to let Sola say whatever she had to say than recoil and deny it— it’s not like she had any better excuse anyways.

“I know it can be tough,” she begins. “Feeling like you’re left out. Believe me, I had my fair share of it. I was so jealous of yours and Padmé’s relationship when you were younger because I was so much older, I felt like I just didn’t quite fit in with you two.”

Her eyes finally meet Sola’s and she begins to see her eldest sister in a different light. All this time, she’s believed she’s the only one who’s felt this way— lost, left behind. While this isn’t quite the same context, she still feels her heart tremble in her chest for her sister, still feels like something’s shifted. It’s at least one thing they can understand each other on.

“But then, I found my husband. And then I had Ryoo and Pooja,” Sola continues. “And it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

Sola’s grip tightens around her hand and she leans forward to place her other one on top. “I know it must seem hard, seeing as both Padmé and I are married— well, almost anyway.” Her lips curve into a soft, reassuring grin. “But you’ll find that same happiness one day. I just know it. So don’t fret, little sister.”

And there, she fears, is where her sister misses the plot.

She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all sounds. She remains silent, however, and Sola gives the back of her hand one last reassuring pat before she lets go, sliding off of the mattress.

“Anyways, I’m going to breakfast. You should come too before all the blue waffles are gone.”

She watches as her eldest sister slips out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and she sighs, digging her knuckles into her closed eyelids until the galaxy shimmers before her. How could Sola have come so close to understanding her one minute only to read her so wrong the next?

She doesn’t make any effort to get out of bed and in all honesty, she wishes she could simply stay here forever, or at least for the rest of the night. At least long enough that she doesn’t have to face Anakin Skywalker.

Because even though she’s already promised herself that she’d let him go, she wasn’t entirely certain she could hold true to her own word when she sees him again.

The day goes by in a blur. In the blink of an eye, she’s wearing a satin dress in that deep orange she finds hideous beside Sola who stands beside Padmé. Padmé stands facing her husband-to-be, fingertips delicately placed in his palms as they recite their vows.

The sun paints the villa’s terrace with an orange glow and she watches it sink beneath the mountains across the lake from the corner of her eye. The sunlight looks like fire rippling in the gentle waves of the water below and she has to look away because she thinks of Anakin, how his eyes glimmer just the same.

She’s determined to keep her gaze away from the audience, however, because she knows he’s there, the incarnation of all she’s ever wanted, of all her bad ideas, of everything she cannot trust herself with in one. She searches the ground below, watches the way her dress ruffles with the breeze, like fire askew in the wind.

Padmé says something that makes the audience erupt in laughter and it startles her, so much that the hair on the back of her neck erects. When she flinches, she makes the mistake of blinking up— right into the eyes she’d been bound to avoid all night.

The world around Anakin Skywalker seems to stir until it’s all wet, blurry hues of orange, green, and white. Anakin is the only one she sees in high resolution— she can see every lock of wavy, dark blonde hair, every rippling wave in his irises, the scarlet line that slices just beside his right eye. She’d never seen this scar before— it must be new.

But what’s the most peculiar of all is that she meets his eyes— she meets his eyes. She’d blinked up to find he’d already been staring, already transfixed on her by the time their gazes met and his eyes had illuminated with that same knowing gleam she’d seen in them that day in the royal courtyard.

Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she is not in a dream. It’s both momentous and utterly devastating all the same.

She isn’t quite sure whether to look away or not. This is what she's mooned over more times than her pride will allow her to admit. She’s dreamed this many nights, for Anakin Skywalker to simply look at her and now he is. Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she should feel elated but instead she feels… conflicted.

Does her heart flutter in her chest? Sure.

Does her stomach twist itself into knots? Certainly.

She felt so confident just the night before when she threw her hands up in surrender to the black sky, admitting her defeat to the stars who spent many moons mocking her that she was done. She felt so confident that she was ready to move on, to let go of this desire she’s harbored for Anakin for so long.

With the simplest of looks, Anakin Skywalker has proven capable of crumpling the paper walls she’d placed around herself. She was left feeling feeble, exposed and any sense of courage she thought she had was now lost.

Because three years of waiting and praying to higher entities who did not hear her pleas could not cease overnight. Her attraction to Anakin Skywalker could not cease in hours. She thought she’d extinguished the last flames of her withering hope but, as it turns out, a single dying ember remained. It means a part of her still yearned for him. A part of her still burned for him.

She wonders now, that he’s still looking at her, what possibly goes on inside his head. Why does he look at her now? Why does he stare, why do his lips twitch before curving in a smile when their eyes meet, why do they irradiate the longer her gaze lingers on his? Why does he not look sad at the wedding of the woman he loves? Why does he not even look at Padmé?

Her mind swirls like a tempest— churning with unhinged, vicious anguish. She has to look away before the acid that bubbles in her throat can come to fruition but she can’t, and Anakin seemingly can’t tear his gaze away from her either. It’s all the more sickening and earth-shattering nonetheless. Her heart swells and pounds in her chest, the border of her vision beginning to blur with the familiar sting of tears. Her head is aching and it’s all just too much— she needs an escape.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

She blinks away her emotion to the best of her ability, using the end of the ceremony as an excuse to look away as the crowd around her thunders with applause. Her mind is reeling and she feels like her head is spinning as she subconsciously claps her palms together, the sound muffled like water in her ears. The watercolor around her stirs until it’s clear again and the entire world suddenly seems to move again— it’s her, this time, that’s in slow motion.

The cheering sounds like thunder, the applause like rain pelting against a window, and her mind begins to crumple, just like metal. She longs for escape, to flee and to be beside herself for the rest of the night. Padmé and her husband begin walking back down the aisle as their guests congratulate them, tossing flower petals into the air above them. She thinks that this is her chance to escape, she thinks everyone is distracted enough that no one will notice her leaving.

They never cared to notice her before anyways.

She begins to shuffle away but she doesn’t make it very far before her stomach lurches when someone clasps a hand around her wrist, tugging her forward. She snaps her head to the source to find her eldest sister, Sola, with her face illuminated by a grin.

“Come on!” Sola exclaims, dragging her down the aisle and back inside the villa. “It’s time to party!”

Dread drains the blood from her cheeks but she’s given no time to protest before she’s being dragged down the aisle, right past Anakin Skywalker. She doesn’t dare look up but she feels him when she passes by, a mere brush of the arms, the feeling of his elbow brushing going just as fast as it came.

And it’s still enough to make liquid of her insides.

She drowns in a sea of people as she and Sola find Padmé, wrapped in their mother’s arms. She can hear her heart drum in her ears as Sola releases her hand to draw Padmé into an embrace, tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks. Everyone around her is so happy and she should be too— but she still feels like she’s beside the altar, caught in the trap Anakin has seemingly laid out for her.

A tear that’s been painfully dormant in her eye falls and she’s certain her distress shows on her face but it must be easily mistaken for tears of joy, because Padmé pulls away from Sola to turn to her, drawing her in for a hug. Her sister’s arms wrap around her body, a palm on her back, the other cupping the back of her head. Even Sola reaches forward to give her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier.

“Don’t cry for me, baby sister,” Padmé laughs tearfully beside her ear. She can feel Padmé’s smile against her shoulder. She pulls away and rubs her palms up and down the length of her arms. “I’m still the same Padmé I’ve always been.”

She’s unable to reply— again, she’s misunderstood. But it’s her sister’s wedding day, she won’t burden her with her own confliction. So she swallows the boulder-sized lump in her throat, curving her lips just enough to form a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m just… happy for you,” she manages. Padmé cups her cheek and soothes the pad of her thumb over her skin before Ryoo and Pooja draw her attention away. Padmé’s hands fall from her arms and finally, she can breathe.

But even that is momentary.

“You make a perfectly fine bride if I do say so myself, Senator.”

Her spine stiffens. She knows that voice. And she knows exactly who is near when she hears it.

Padmé laughs and tosses her hands. “Obi-Wan,” she greets him just like an old friend would, pulling him in for an embrace. “And little Ani.”

How is it that she’s already seen him more tonight than she has in the past three years? She sees Anakin’s dark boots from the top of her vision, not daring to tear her gaze from the ground.

“Padmé,” Anakin’s deep, enriching voice sounds and rumbles deep in her belly. She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, desperate to flee. She thinks she can manage it now— Obi-Wan and Anakin are engrossed with Padmé now, right?

She begins to make her first attempt of escape, taking slow, careful steps to the side until her second effort crumbles when Anakin speaks her name.

Ice frosts over her spine and she’s no choice but to acknowledge the man she was so intent on avoiding the entire evening. Padmé and Obi-Wan are engrossed in their own conversation but Anakin’s gaze remains on her, eyes even sparkling when she finally meets them.

Her mouth is a desiccated oasis and her throat feels like a desert as it constricts painfully when she swallows. Still, she manages to breathe out, “Anakin.”

It’s the first time she can ever recall having a true, proper conversation with him. The last time being when they said their goodbyes that very first time before he and Padmé left for the Lake Country. It’s confusing how this is everything she’s ever wanted yet, she feels an urge to push it all away.

Anakin clears his throat and his eyes flicker to his feet for a moment as if he could possibly be nervous before they find hers again. “You look good,” he says and her heart stops beating in her chest. “That dress is beautiful on you.”

She thinks she could punch him.

Or kiss him.

She has to look away, or she may very well do the latter.

She wonders if this is some cruel, senseless joke the Maker is playing on her. She wonders if she’d upset him by unlatching herself from his hook and this is his way of reeling her back in. She hates that it has the potential to work.

“I…” she stammers and closes her lids frustratedly, willing air back into her lungs. She shakes her head— she cannot be here any longer. She may very well explode if she has to succumb to this torture for even a second more. “…thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And then, she bolts.

She’s lost track of how long she’s been locked in her room, sitting in the window, staring at the moonlight that ripples in the water below. It was long enough for the chatter downstairs to quiet to murmurs until it finally ceased altogether. The villa is now quiet and suddenly, her room feels suffocating.

With a sigh, her feet meet the floor and she pushes away from the window seat, cupping her neck to roll it around her shoulders as she pads towards the door. It slides open and she slips through, making her way down the hallway leading towards the main foyer. Her dress flows behind her like flames in the wind, the satin cool against her legs as she walks. Fresh, night air greets her and she inhales, letting it flood her lungs as she saunters to the wide terrace ahead.

She stops at the stone arches of the railing and exhales, feeling the wind sift its fingers through her hair, breathing on her skin like a lover in the throes of passion. It caresses her neck and rolls down her back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

She’d spent many nights just like this one. Staring at the moon rippling through the water, at the stars that twinkle overhead, the sky that blackens behind them. She’d spent many nights praying, releasing her pleas into the air and letting it drift away with the breeze.

She does not pray this time. When she lifts her head to brave the dark that faces her, she merely asks why.

“Why, Maker,” she whispers beneath her breath. There’s an edge, a strain to her voice that stings her throat, that feels like daggers to her chest. “Why must you be so cruel? I have done everything, I have given you everything. Why wasn’t it enough? Why do you mock me now?”

The stars overhead gleam as they cackle, sneering at the misfit below. “You’ll never have a place among us,” they seem to say. Tears well in her eyes and she drops her head, fingernails scraping the stone edge of the railing. She leans back on her heels and wills herself to breathe before a sob could wrack her body.

She feels lost and utterly alone, and she truly begins to feel like the weight of this prolonged pain has started to fall on top of her. She’s lost and alone and her entire world has started to crumble around her. And then she hears her name.

It’s like the call that haunts her every time she closes her eyes, the same velvety voice that caresses her ear every night when she lies down in bed. But it is not a ghostly whisper this time, because it is real.

Footsteps sound behind her and she further scratches her nails against the railing.

“I was wondering where you wandered off to,” Anakin remarks as he approaches and she can feel him beside her, like a whisper of shadow creeping along her skin. She rolls back onto the balls of her feet and stands straight, sniffing.

“Anakin,” she says, steadily, methodically. As if it took great effort to say it without stammering. She can see him out of her peripheral, dark blonde curls falling when he leans an elbow against the railing, tilting his head in an attempt to meet her eye.

She does not move.

“I was looking for you, you know,” he continues. “You must’ve found a good hiding spot.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was in my room,” she replies simply, a steely, monotone in her voice.

Anakin inhales and hums. “Then it makes sense why I could not find you. I would never barge into a lady’s room.”

It’s an attempt at humor but she feels anything but. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place with seemingly no clear solution in sight. She could walk away. She should walk away. She shouldn't spend a single second more in Anakin Skywalker’s presence— she simply couldn’t trust herself to not betray her own vow.

Or she could stay. She could stay and once again succumb to the fool’s game she’s been playing. She could stay and let Anakin Skywalker tie another noose around her neck, allowing him to drag her along for another three years.

She knows what is right. She knows what she should do.

But she’s frozen.

She cannot move, cannot even bring her lips to move so she can speak. She instead wilts, like a rose who once stood beautifully now losing its color, shriveling in on herself until she inevitably withers away.

She can feel Anakin draw himself just an inch closer beside her, and he’s like a single drop of rain that’s enough to somewhat salvage the husk of who she once was.

“Why do you avoid me?” He asks and it’s a question so simply but so damn infuriating all the while. She’s been a volcano in dormancy up until this point, but there’s a rumbling deep within her, threatening to erupt.

“Why are you doing this?” She questions, snapping her head towards him, brows dipped and drawn. Anakin blinks and draws back, a dent forming between his own brows.

“Doing what?” He asks and that feeling of wanting to ram her fist into his face comes back. She turns to fully face him and he pushes off the railing, uncertainty warping his features.

“This,” she gestures between them. “Staring at me. Talking to me. As if we’ve spoken more than hellos and goodbyes to each other.”

Anakin raises a brow, the one his scar pierces, and it warps with the movement.

She continues. “And then you have the audacity to tell me I look beautiful in this gods-awful dress just to spite me.” She is a volcano, no longer dormant, no longer overlooked. She is exploding and Anakin is unfortunate enough to be in her wake.

He shakes his head. “Spite you?” He repeats. She begins to pace, a hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. Anakin follows, exactly like a lost puppy. “I wasn’t— I would never—“

“Don’t say you’d never,” she turns on him, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. He blinks from it back to her, that ocean in the irises of his eyes raging, lightning cracking in the sinkhole at its center. She drops her hand and it curls at her side, her fists two shaking balls of fury. Blood bites her cheeks and she thinks of all the times she’s imagined speaking with Anakin Skywalker, of being alone with him.

This certainly was not how she’d ever imagined the scenario playing out.

She inhales. “Don’t say you’d never do anything to spite me while you are actively using me to get over Padmé,” she exhales, braving the stormy sea in his eyes. The tide shifts and his manner does too and she believes she’s already cracked him. She thinks she’s already shattered the illusion he was trying to create, that she’s lifted the wool he’s tried to veil over her eyes.

She thinks that he believes whatever game he was trying to play was over.

Anakin straightens. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” he says and she scoffs, backing away.

“Don’t I?” She retorts. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve always looked at her? How you’ve always loved her?”

It brings her great pain to merely mention it. Her palms wipe at her face as tears begin welling in her eyes again, her cheeks warm as she desperately tries to quell the beginnings of a sob that stutters through her chest. She realizes now that by keeping all of these emotions, these feelings she’s harbored for Anakin for so long bottled has made her restless, has made her tick like a time bomb.

And her time to detonate has come.

He says her name again and tries to step forward, reeling back when she steps away from him. His hand wrapped in a leather glove hovers in the air between them and he drops it with an exasperated sigh.

“Your sister means a great deal to me, yes,” he begins. “But it is not—“

“My sister is the sole reason why you torment me!” She snaps. “And you have no right to use how I feel against me just because she does not love you back.”

Her words are an arrow meant to strike, to pierce through his chest, his heart her target. Her words are meant to cut deep, to draw blood, to make him bleed just like she has everyday since they met. She thinks they will, she thinks her blows will etch deep, will even leave scars in their wake. Part of her longs to see that pained expression upon his face, just like the one she wears now.

But her arrow merely grazes, soaring past until it sinks in the shining waters below.

Anakin’s face shifts but it is not in the way she thought it would, not in the way she hoped it would. His brows dip and his eyes swarm with a pained sort of desperation she’s never seen before in someone. She certainly never expected to see it in someone like him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths as he steps forward again. She stands still, unable to move. She is stunned— Anakin Skywalker has surprised her.

“Padmé does not love me,” he admits. “I met her when I was only a child. The only girl I’d ever seen before her was my own mother. So, of course, I felt drawn to her.” Her jaw tightens and her lips fall together in a firm, thin line. Anakin’s brows knit closer together and there’s a flicker in his eyes that she swears looks like the predecessor to tears.

She doesn’t quite want to believe it. He could not cry.

“And I spent a decade pining, a decade praying that I’d one day see her again, a decade hoping she’d been counting down the days until she saw me again, just like I was.”

She doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. It’s a reflection of her own story, her own foolish pining, her own foolish praying but not hers, but Anakin’s. Her heart stutters in her chest and she forgets to breathe, having to gasp to gather air back into her lungs.

She’s never once felt like she could be understood. She’s never once felt like anyone else could experience the inner turmoil she has, the seemingly fruitless yearning she has.

But she’s realizing now that that's not true. Not anymore, at least. Everything is changing right before her eyes.

“And then I did,” Anakin shakes his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. “And I felt nothing. But I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved her. But I just… didn’t.”

Her brow furrows and Anakin’s gaze darkens as it finds hers.

“I spent a decade obsessing over someone I didn’t really know, and how could I? I was a child.” His eyes search hers, searching for something unbeknownst to her. But she lets him. “I didn’t know what love was. All I knew was infatuation. I didn’t know what it meant to truly feel seen, to truly feel drawn to someone.”

Anakin pauses and she gets the feeling that whatever he says next will be calamitous.

“Until I saw you again, that day outside the palace.”

Her lips tremble and her breath shudders, an icy chill frosting over her skin. To think he’s thought about her everyday since their eyes briefly met in the midst of a crowded courtyard was hard to believe yet, when she looks at Anakin Skywalker now, she sees the softening of his brow, the quiver in his lips, the honesty in his eyes.

She’s only ever imagined one look in his eyes. Desire.

But she looks at him now and finds an entire galaxy— there’s longing, there’s earnest, there’s optimism, there’s burning. As it turns out, living creatures are not black and white like she initially thought them to be. Anakin Skywalker is a complex creature, made of flesh and blood and of an intricacy she’d never stopped to consider before.

He’s even better than she’s imagined he’d be.

Every moment spent under the stars, praying that she’d one day have a place among them, that she one day would sit among them with purpose rather than in an ellipsis suddenly begins to feel like it wasn’t all for nothing after all. Every prayer she’s whispered into the night breeze with Anakin Skywalker’s name in it suddenly feels like they begin to matter, like they begin to come true.

Still, she is wary, and Anakin seems to recognize this caution.

He takes a step closer and he steals the breath from her chest, just like he had the first moment she saw him. Her fingers twitch, itching to find his, her palms tingling with the desire to feel his skin, her lips buzzing with yearning. She does not touch him, she does not kiss him, she does not do anything. She simply waits for the rest of his story to unfold and her brain aches with the hope that it will unravel into hers.

“I saw you that day at the palace to find you were already looking at me. That you were already seeing me,” he mutters, a little breathlessly. “It may have been for… for only a moment but when you looked at me, I felt…” he trails off, a furrow in his brow as he searches for the correct word. “…I felt… like something shifted.”

She watches as he rolls his lips together, watches as the moonlight catches how they glisten with spittle. Her breath catches a little bit, her gaze lingering there, her desire to lap it all up flaring.

“It felt like there was a string there between us I’d never noticed before,” he continues. “There was a connection I’d never realized until the moment our eyes met. I felt you, and I felt you see me. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed by since where I didn’t feel you, where I didn’t feel like we were connected, like we were two stars written in the same constellation.”

Her chest rises and falls to the erratic beating of her heart as Anakin draws nearer, the hand with his glove meeting her cheek with a tenderness she’d felt from no one before. She’d never realized how starved of touch she’s been until now and it feels so invigorating. Her stare drops to his lips and she feels that string Anakin must’ve been talking about, feels it drawing her closer into his mouth.

“Padmé does not love me back, and I do not care,” he says in just above a whisper, his voice rising and falling in a way that jellifies her knees, that makes liquid of her insides. “Because I am burning– foolishly, maybe, yes– for you.”

She inhales sharply and it truly feels like all her prayers are finally being answered, like she’s being inducted into her rightful place in the sea of stars. And in her constellation, Anakin Skywalker resides too.

She reaches up with a hand to hold the crook of his elbow that’s strung between them as he brings his other, ungloved hand to rest on her other cheek. She feels his skin on her cheek as the pad of his thumb soothes over the warmth of her flesh and her body quakes with shivers that roll down her spine all the way to her toes. He begins to lean in, his breath hot where it fans against her skin but she tilts backwards, just enough for him to halt, a quirk in one of his brows.

“I will not let you settle for me, Anakin Skywalker,” she whispers, admitting that insecurity still lingers, despite his words. Anakin’s eyes narrow as he uses his hands on either sides of her face to draw her in, his lips but a mere whisper away from hers when he murmurs, “settle? This is not settling. This is binding.”

Then, his lips are on hers in an electrifying bind that shatters her spine with cracks of lightning and she falls into him, her hands on either of his forearms to keep herself steady.

Anakin kisses her with an ardor she could never even dream up in all of her wildest of fantasies. He kisses her and she feels like she finally fits in her dress, as it is the color of fire and she’s engulfed in flames. He kisses her and he is the flame that lights her candle, the flame that melts her from the center, that makes heat course through her that washes all the way down to her toes. He kisses her and she is melting, right into him.

His tongue pirouettes over hers and she hums into his mouth, feeling his fingers thread through her hair. Her heart is pounding and her lips are buzzing but all she feels is Anakin, she feels the muscles in his arms, the warmth that radiates off his body and spills into her. She feels the push and pull of the passion, the yearning he’s kept inside all this time. She feels her own longing and fervor pour into him and they are floating, two clouds that collide into one another to become one.

Anakin steps forward and steps backwards until she hits a wall. When they pull away for breath, she realizes he’s backed her into one of the pillars, a vine caught in the hair on the back of her head. Their chests heave with the weight of their breaths and she watches as Anakin’s hand, not the gloved one, but the one with skin rises, following it as it reaches for her neck. She shudders when he touches her collarbone, exposed from the side of the fiery satin of her dress. His fingertips sear her skin as it drags to the neck of her dress, following the satin where it wraps around her throat, all the way to the back of her neck where the lace falls.

Her breath catches when his fingers find the small strings keeping her dress together. Her gaze finds his again to find he’s already staring, a narrow, earnest look upon his face that darkens his eyes and hardens his features. There is a silent question that hangs in the air between them: “do you want to stop?”

Maybe they’re moving too fast. Maybe this is crazy, maybe they’re simply caught up in the moment, high off the feeling of burning for someone who burns for them too. But after years of pining, of waiting, of praying, it only feels right.

But still, she asks, “what if someone sees? Someone like Obi-Wan who can get you in trouble?”

Anakin shakes his head, “they won’t. Now, I don’t want to talk about Obi-Wan. Do you want to stop?”

The shake of her head is all Anakin needs to see before he unlaces the strings holding her dress together, the satin falling like a spark blazing down the frayed edges of a rope until it pools at her elbows. Her breasts spill from the dress and the night’s ghostly whisper chills her skin, peaking her nipples.

Anakin’s eyes devour and she is prey.

His stare pierces through her skin to the marrow of her bones that catch a chill and she quakes. He meets her eyes again as his hands drift lower, dipping until they finally find her chest. A sharp gasp escapes when his palms cup either of her breasts and she arches into his touch, already aching for more.

“Anakin!” She gasps in a breathy exclaim when he dips his chin to press a kiss over the top of one of her breasts, heat blossoming in his lips’ wake. His eyes catch her again, a little warily. “Is this okay?” He asks, his voice low and gravely, scratching the itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had. It makes her knees feel weak and if it hadn’t been for his body pressed up against hers, she would’ve crumpled straight to the ground.

“Yes,” she breathes, chest heaving into his palms. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… never…”

Anakin’s lips curve and she can see a flash of white peek between them. He shakes his head. “Me neither,” he admits with a breathy laugh and she titters too, grateful for the fact that she’s not the only one who’s a little green.

“Can I keep going?” He questions and his voice is liquid desire, melting straight down to her core. She swallows the lump that’s formed in her throat, nodding. “Please,” she adds, feeling her heart beat straight into his palm.

Anakin’s head dips again and she watches, cheeks warm as he places an open-mouthed kiss just above her nipple. His palm kneads the other breast as his lips venture just an inch lower, finding the peaked bud that awaits, suckling it into his mouth.

It’s like electricity flooding through her veins.

She throws her head back, lips falling agape as her eyelids snap closed, soaking in the pleasure of Anakin’s lips on her nipple. He cautiously flicks his tongue against the bud, watching through his lids as a moan falls from her lips, encouraging him to do it again. He flattens his tongue against her nipple and licks a long, fat stripe from the underside of it up, feeling her tremble in his arms. He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses through the valley between them to make his way to the other.

Touching him, feeling him, kissing him is somehow even better than she’d ever imagined, even after all those years of dreaming for moments like this. She can’t believe she’s gone so long without feeling him like this, she doesn’t think she can ever stop touching him.

Anakin suckles on her breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as his hand not wrapped in a glove ventures down her body, past her waist, down her hip. He pulls the satin material of her dress up until his arm can sneak his way beneath it and she shivers when his fingers find her center over her underwear. Her nails dig into his sleeves above his shoulders, holding her breath as he finds the wet spot in her underwear, gently pressing against it.

Her hands tighten on his shoulders and ceases all movement, peering up at her. “You’re wet,” he says rather matter-of-factly because of course she is, how could she not be? She nods down at him, swallowing thick layers of saliva down her throat. “Can I touch you here?” He asks and his voice drops to that silky, velvety tone that makes her core ache. She presses her lips together to stifle her groan, head vigorously nodding up and down.

“Gods yes, Anakin,” she moans, slowly rocking her hips against his finger. “Please.”

She feels filthy in a way for asking, for needing friction so desperately. She’s only ever taken her own fingers when she’s too lost in pleasure at night to sleep, never been touched by anyone else but it’s all she craves now, for Anakin’s fingers to touch her, for him— whatever part it may be— to be inside her.

A flame had been ignited in the pit of her belly long ago, back when Anakin first stepped through the door the day they met. It’s sat stagnant for too long, waiting for its moment to further bloom and now it has. It blossomed when her eyes met Anakin’s that day in the courtyard but it’s now in full bloom, now that they burn together, now that his kisses have seared her skin, now that his fingers are pulling her underwear down her thighs, just enough that he can reach her center.

When his fingertips brush her clit, she bursts.

Anakin’s arm wraps around her waist as she practically collapses into him, his middle finger drawing circles against her clit, his breath hot as his lips rest on her brow.

“Is this good?” He asks against her forehead. “Do you feel good?” He questions again as he adds his forefinger to the mix, applying just a little more pressure and it makes her eyes roll.

“Yes, just… just don’t stop,” she exhales, feeling her stomach twist itself into a knot, his fingers against her clit threatening to pull it undone any moment.

So he doesn’t.

He’s unrelenting in the way his fingers press to the aching bud in her center, tracing tight circles until her eyes squeeze closed so hard, milky-ways shimmer behind her lids. He dares venture lower, gathering her slick on the pads of his fingers as he teases near her entrance. It’s a foreign and strange feeling, it’s a pattern she’s traced many times with her own fingers but never been touched by someone else. Even in spite of how many nights she spent trekking that path wishing it was Anakin’s fingers instead, but it’s still strange feeling him there now.

She clutches his arm tighter and he slows, beginning to retract his hand. She stops him, lifting her head until their eyes meet again.

“No,” she pants, shaking her head. “Don’t stop, just… just take it slow.”

He nods, his finger a little unsure as it circles her entrance, unintentionally teasing until she begins to crack. She’s panting, trying to wiggle her hips so that she can draw his fingers in, seeking that feeling of being full. Anakin dips his forefinger into her hole and she tosses her head back, her lips parting for an “oh” to emit.

He watches her face, even if she can’t see it, she can feel his gaze behind her closed lids. He is testing the waters, learning what makes her moan, what makes her squirm, what makes her come. Slowly, he sinks his finger further in and she feels every single millimeter that drags along her walls until he’s knuckle deep. Her legs feel like jelly and her knees begin to wobble, nails clinging to his sleeves like they were her lifeline.

Pressure builds in the pit of her belly as Anakin carefully retracts his finger, just to sink it back in again, a slow, cautious rhythm that leaves her mind spinning. His fingers are so much bigger than hers and she already feels so stuffed despite it only being one finger. Somehow, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Ana… Anakin,” she gasps, peeling open her lids to find he’s already looking. His finger slows but picks up its pace again when he realizes she’s not in any pain. “Another.”

His brow dips and his head tilts in confusion, uncertain what she means. She gathers moisture on her lips, trying to speak through the pleasure-driven haze in her mind.

“Another finger. Please.”

Their eyes lock and there’s a flicker in his, a hint of doubt.

“Are you su—“

“Please.”

So, Anakin gathers her lips with his and she mewls into his mouth when he presses his middle against his pointer, sinking them into her cunt until they reach as far as they can. She’s trembling against him but he keeps her upright, with his arm and with his lips.

Just one of Anakin’s fingers had made her feel stuffed but two of his fingers made her feel full to the brim. Her walls clench around his fingers and she gasps his name like the beginning of a prayer, pleading for more.

It’s a twist on the prayers she recites to the Maker every night. It’s rewriting her every broken hymn, transforming it into something entirely new. She moans Anakin’s name and his fingers turn it into a song so that she cries like a dove into the night. The Maker may have left her feeling broken, wasted, unimportant but Anakin has found her, patched her up, polished her until she’s brand new.

The tangle in her belly begins to rupture, slowly unraveling and so she pushes his arm away, his fingers sliding out of her cunt, her walls pulsing with the loss. They both pant and Anakin’s face hardens in question as his chest heaves.

“What is it?” He asks, searching her face.

She gathers air deep in her chest. “I want…” She trails off, her embarrassment washing over her cheeks in blood. Her gaze drops and Anakin tilts his head to find it again, their eyes locked. He says nothing, only the nod of his head encourages her to continue. “…I want more. I want… I want you to…”

She purses her lips in frustration. For heaven’s sake, she’s talking to the man who just had his fingers inside of her mere moments ago. Why does she feel embarrassed now?

She takes another deep breath, mustering the courage to tell what she truly wants. “…I want you to feel good too.”

Something shifts in Anakin’s eyes. It could be easily mistaken as a trick of the light but she sees it, she feels it. Anakin is burning just the same as her, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of desire, and she burns within it.

She watches as Anakin’s hand sinks below the belt around his middle, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers beneath his dark tunic. She watches with her breath lodged at the base of her throat as he pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to be set free and oh, it is just like her dreams but even better.

Nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of Anakin Skywalker’s cock. Not even the wildest of her dreams could ever capture the essence of the art of Anakin Skywalker. He is handcrafted by the gods themselves— he is the physical embodiment of masterpiece.

He steps forward and towers over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her face. She peers up at him, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. His hands find either side of her face and she stops breathing altogether, wondering what he will do next.

Then, “put your arms here,” he whispers, guiding her arms over his shoulder. “And hold on.”

She squeals when he drops his hands to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her off the ground so that her ankles lock behind his back. Her arms tighten around his neck as he presses her back against the pillar, his chest pressed into hers. She can feel his length as it’s squeezed between either of their bodies and her walls clench around nothing, practically sobbing to feel him inside.

For a moment, the world stills around them and it’s like when she sees him in the audience during Padmé’s wedding. The night stirs and blurs until it’s dark watercolor, but Anakin is what she sees in high resolution. It’s the perfect mirage— she and Anakin feel like two stars in the middle of the black abyss above, forming their own little constellation.

And when Anakin finally slides himself inside of her, she feels like her place in the sea of stars has been cemented. She finally feels like she’s where she belongs.

a/n; SO! MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET.... may or may not have gotten a bit carried away (more like a little too wordy...) BUT! i really hope some of you enjoy and i truly appreciate anyone who reads this all the way through. i know 10k words is a lot 😭 also i hope this doesn’t seem too insta-lovey… this idea just came to me in a dream so i wrote what I dreamt lol

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

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#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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amirasainz · 27 days ago

Note

I love little yn Alonso, can you please do she sees her uncle Jenson and he immediately snatched her up taking her in his arms and doing all the interviews with her, fighting the drivers trying to take her Because’s that’s his sweet little niece

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Uncle Jens

It was a typical sunny afternoon at the F1 paddock, the air buzzing with anticipation as teams prepped for the weekend's race. Among the crowd of mechanics, media, and fans, there was a special little guest causing quite a stir—three-year-old Yn Alonso, who was holding her papa's hand as they walked together.

Fernando glanced down at his daughter, smiling as her tiny feet stumbled forward. "Vamos, pequeña," he said softly. "Stay close to Papa."

Yn, with her big brown eyes and a head full of dark curls, clutched a stuffed animal tightly under one arm while her other hand stayed gripped in Fernando’s. She was dressed in a black dress with a cute bow on her head, looking every bit like a pint-sized version of her father.

But just as they reached the Aston Martin hospitality area, someone caught sight of them. It was none other than Jenson, who immediately made his way over, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Oi, Nando,” Jenson called out, “looks like you've brought your secret weapon to the track today.”

Fernando chuckled, glancing down at Yn. “Sí, Jenson, my good luck charm,” he replied. "But I'm afraid she's not available for hire.”

But Jenson wasn’t deterred. As he approached, he crouched down to Yn’s eye level and opened his arms. “Come here, princess. Why don't you give your Uncle Jens a big hug?”

Yn's eyes lit up at the sight of Jenson, and she immediately let go of Fernando’s hand, toddling over to the Brit. Jenson scooped her up effortlessly, lifting her high into the air before settling her into his arms.

"Ah, there we go. That's much better," Jenson said, holding her close. "You don’t mind, do you, Nando?" He gave Fernando a cheeky wink, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Fernando folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "Fine, fine. Just don’t let her wander off too far. I’ll be keeping an eye on both of you."

Jenson nodded as Yn giggled in his arms, looking around curiously at all the commotion. "Don’t worry, she’s safe with me," Jenson assured, then turned his attention to Yn. “You want to come help Uncle Jens with some interviews?” he asked her in a gentle tone.

Yn, although only understanding parts of what was said, nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing with the movement. Jenson grinned and made his way toward the media zone, where Sky Sports reporters were ready for the usual pre-race interviews.

The moment Jenson arrived with Yn in his arms, the cameras turned their attention to them. "And here we have Jenson Button," the reporter began, "who seems to have a special guest with him today!"

Jenson gave the camera a charming smile, adjusting Yn slightly in his arms. "Oh, this is my little helper for the day. Say hello, Yn."

Yn, looking wide-eyed at the camera, clutched her stuffed toy closer. "Hola," she said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The reporter grinned. "She's adorable! How does it feel, Jenson, to be holding the paddock's youngest fan?"

Before Jenson could answer, a voice called out from behind them. "Oi, Jenson!" It was Lando, who was quickly approaching with a mischievous look on his face. "Mind if I borrow your little helper for a moment?"

Jenson tightened his hold on Yn, raising an eyebrow at the young McLaren driver. “Nice try, Norris, but I don’t think you’re qualified. Takes a lot to look after a princess, you know.”

Before Lando could reply, Charles joined the fray, reaching out with a friendly smile. “Come on, Jenson, just for a minute,” he coaxed, “let me carry her.”

Jenson took a step back, pulling Yn closer to his chest. "Not a chance, Leclerc. She's mine for today." Yn giggled again, sensing the playful atmosphere even if she didn’t understand all the words being exchanged.

“Pretty sure I’m the only one who can hold her,” Jenson added with a wink. “It’s a union rule, mate.”

Oscar appeared next, with Max trailing behind him. "What’s going on here?" Oscar asked, his tone half-joking as he saw the small group gathering. "Are we all fighting for custody of Yn now?”

Max crossed his arms, smirking. “Seems like Jenson thinks he’s the only one fit for the job. Why don’t you let her come with a future 4-times champion, Button?”

Jenson rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh please, Max, you may have the speed, but do you have the charm?” He gave Yn a little bounce in his arms, making her giggle. “See? Even she knows.”

“Come on, Uncle Jens!” Carlos chimed in, joining the crowd. “Give us a chance to hold her! We’ll be very careful,” he promised, holding out his arms.

Jenson took another step back, keeping Yn close as he looked over his shoulder. That was when he spotted Lewis lurking behind him, a knowing smile on his face.

As the other drivers continued to "argue" over who would get to hold Yn, Lewis quietly stepped forward and waved at her from behind Jenson's back. "Hola, chica," Lewis said softly, his voice warm and friendly. He made a funny face, sticking his tongue out slightly, which immediately got Yn's attention.

Yn giggled and reached a tiny hand out toward Lewis, but Jenson quickly turned, blocking the other drivers with his back. “Nice try, Lewis, but she’s staying right here.” He adjusted Yn’s position, making sure she was secure in his arms. "She's got a front-row seat for all the action," he added with a smug grin.

Fernando had been watching the entire spectacle from a short distance, arms still folded across his chest. When he saw that Yn was having a great time, he decided to intervene, walking over to the group with a casual stride. "Okay, okay, chicos, that’s enough," he said, chuckling. "It’s time for Yn to say goodbye."

Jenson glanced at Fernando, and even then, he didn’t seem too keen on letting Yn go. “You’re really going to take her away from me?” he asked with a feigned pout.

“Sí, Jenson,” Fernando replied, shaking his head with amusement. “Even you can’t keep her forever.”

Jenson sighed dramatically but made no move to hand Yn over. “Alright, Nando, you win,” he said, “I guess I can allow Yn to give you a goodbye kiss.”

Yn turned her head to look at Fernando, her little face lighting up as she recognized her papa. “¡Papá!” she called out, reaching a hand toward him.

Fernando stepped closer and planted a gentle kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “Adiós, mi amor,” he whispered. “Te veré después.”

“Okay, there, she said goodbye,” Jenson interjected quickly, pulling Yn back just a little to keep her close. “Now, where were we?” he joked, making the other drivers laugh and shake their heads.

Yn, meanwhile, continued to giggle as Jenson held her tightly, unaware of the playful “battle” going on around her. Even though she didn’t understand all the words being said, she could feel the warmth and affection from everyone, making her feel like the true princess of the paddock.

As Fernando walked away, he glanced over his shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips. He knew that Yn was safe in Jenson’s arms, surrounded by a circle of friends who cared about her just as much as he did. And with Jenson standing there, determined to keep hold of his little princess, Fernando couldn’t help but feel a touch of gratitude for the playful chaos Yn brought to the paddock.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#fernando alonso x reader #jenson button x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #carlos sainz x reader #alonso!reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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mcuamerica · 5 months ago

Text

Loving Flames | Part Four

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Eris finally show Prythian your love.

Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, slight mention of PTSD, (kind of proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tomorrow was the day you would accept the bond. That was the most important part of the day to Eris and you. For the rest of the Autumn court, it would be a wedding and a ceremony naming you High Lady.

It had been a year since you had went to Autumn, and a year since you had talked to your brother. While you had contact with Feyre and the rest of your family, you hadn't talked to Rhysand at all. You would still wake up in the middle of the night after a nightmare of being locked in your own room. It would take Eris bringing you to the garden for you to calm down and understand you were safe, you could leave. Some nights, it was so bad you'd spend the rest of the night sitting on a bench. It took a toll on both you and Eris. While you had trouble staying asleep, he had trouble falling asleep in fear he would miss your nightmare and you would be alone to work through it.

However, since you wanted your entire family at the mating ceremony, and you hadn't received a response from them, you decided to go to the Night Court yourself. Eris wanted to come with you, it was hard for him to not be there for you, but you knew this was something you had to do by yourself.

You took a deep breath once you winnowed outside the River House. In the Solar Courts, it was summer time. You spotted Rhys, now a spry four year old, running around with his two year old cousin, Lucien and Elain's daughter. While Lucien and Elain had visited Autumn, as had just about every one of your family, you were happy to see them together.

"Aunt (Y/N)!" You heard a small voice cry out, then a barreling head of black curls ran towards you. You smiled and leaned down, scooping up Nyx and pulling him close.

"Hi Nyx, are you being nice to Aster?" You asked, seeing your niece waddle up to you as well.

"Of course." He said defiantly, crossing his little arms on his chest.

You let out a laugh and set him down, giving Aster a hug before you took both of their small hands in yours. "Where are your parents?" You asked.

"I wasn't too far away." Lucien said, arms crossed as he leaned against the banister of the stairs.

You looked up and smiled. "Hi Lu," you said, walking the two children over to him. "I think a visit is in order as I haven't heard from you about the mating ceremony in Autumn." You said.

Lucien gave you a small smile. "I'm sorry about that, it's been a little crazy around here." He said.

You hummed, still feeling slightly left out of the family. "Is Rhys here?" You asked quietly.

Lucien nodded, taking Aster in his arms when she held her hands up. "In the living room." He said. You led Nyx into the house as well, watching as he scampered off to the living room where his mother's laughs filled the room.

You took a deep breath as Lucien called out your arrival, gathering the courage to step into the living room.

Everyone, save for Rhys, stood up to greet you. You smiled softly and hugged all of them, glad to see your family together. You felt empty without Eris beside you, but you felt a light tug on the bond at the thought, knowing he could feel your nerves.

They all decided to go outside and give you space with Rhys, of course after asking you if it was okay. When you assured them it would be fine, they filed out to the front yard.

You looked at Rhys as he stood up. "Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." You said.

"I'm sorry." He said, the only thing he's been able to say for the past year. In letters, in sending you solstice and Starfall gifts.

"I know."

"How can I make this better?" He asked.

You took a deep breath. You had thought about this a lot. Talked it through with Eris many times. "I want to make a bargain with you. I will forgive you if you promise to never lock me up again... and you will accept Eris and I as mates. And support us as such." You said.

"I promise." He said immediately. You felt a tattoo appear on the back of your shoulders, mimicking the ones that Rhys had from completing the Blood Rite. "You deserve them... you've been through more than I can imagine." He said. "And I promise, truly, (Y/N), that I will never harm you again. And I will always talk to you before trying to protect you."

You smiled, walking closer to him and hugging him tightly. "I've missed you." You said. "Now, please tell me you will come to this ceremony? And the rest of our family?" I asked.

"I told them to go, they didn't want to until we made up..." He said.

"I figured... They are still very loyal to you. Though how bad did Cass and Az beat you up when they found out what you did?" You asked as you pulled away.

"To a pulp." He said and smiled a bit. "And Feyre banished me to the cabin for a month. I couldn't leave." He said.

"You deserved it." You said, nudging him.

"I did... and so much more. But I'm happy to see you happy.. even if it's with Eris." You rolled your eyes at the comment. "He really is a good male?" He asked.

You nodded, smiling softly. "I love him, Rhys. And he's been nothing but incredible for me." You said. "And I want you there when we accept the bond... and I become High Lady." You said.

He smiled, ruffling your hair. "High Lady of Autumn... What a twist. Imagine what father would think." He joked.

"I'm pretty sure he would die before seeing me as High Lady of anything, nonetheless Autumn." You said.

Rhys chuckled and nodded, looking at you for a few moments. "You've become an incredible female, (Y/N). I'm very proud of you." He said, pulling you in for another hug. "And I really hope we never fight again. Because this past year has sucked without you." He said.

You smiled softly and hugged him back. "Yeah, I know."

You stood in front of the mirror in your closet, smoothing down the golden dress you had on. Deep red swirls with golden sparkles embedded in the embroidery ran from your waist to your feet. There was a thin fabric attached to the straps, flowing down your back as a cape. That had matching red swirls in lace, intricately sewn into the see-through fabric. Your hair was up in a braid, circling the back of your head, with two golden leaf clips holding it back. You were the epitome of Autumn, the only thing not matching was your violet eyes, matching ones to Rhys. Still, they stood out amongst the gold and accentuated your features.

You sensed Eris enter the room before you heard him. "I might just have to accept the bond right here. I don't know if I can deal with that many males looking at you when you look so incredible." He said.

You smiled and turned towards him. "You're going to have to get used to it, because our people need a level-headed High Lord." You said.

Our people. Not only his people, but yours too. "Hmm.. I thought that's why I chose you as my High Lady..." He said and smirked. "Truly, princess, you are breath-taking. Beautiful. Gorgeous. The Mother herself would drop dead in your presence." He said.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you walked towards him, your red and gold heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "You flatter me too much, High Lord." You teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

His hands came to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "There is no such thing." He said and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You still won't tell me the food you're going to offer me, should I be scared?" He asked.

You laughed and shook your head. "Do you trust me?" You asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He leaned into your touch, smiling against the gentle gesture.

"Of course. With my life." He said.

"Then no, you should not be scared." You said and pecked his lips. "Would the High Lord escort me to the temple?" You teased.

He smiled, letting you take his arm as he winnowed you to the temple, where guests from all courts were filing in. You spotted your family standing outside, waiting for you and Eris to appear.

"I will see you inside." You said, kissing his cheek. "Please don't kill my brother at the dais." You said, squeezing his hand.

Eris gave you a wink before slinging his arm around Lucien's shoulders and leading him inside where their mother was waiting. Elain followed, along with the rest of the Inner Circle, all giving you hugs of good luck before following them along.

You looked at Rhys as he stayed behind. "You look wonderful," He said.

You smiled gently and hummed. "Thank you for not wearing black to the ceremony." You said, noticing his dark green tunic and pants. All of your family had been dressed in similar dark colors, but all reminiscent of Autumn.

"It would be improper to deny the wish of a bride. And future High Lady." He said, pulling you in for a hug.

When you pulled away, you heard the procession music begin to play. "Will you escort me to Eris?" You asked him. "I can go by myself-"

"I will escort you. See it as a symbolic gesture of giving him my trust to protect you." Rhys said, offering his arm to you.

You smiled as you took his arm, starting to walk down the middle aisle of the temple. You looked around at all of the fall flowers and decorations, courtesy of Elain's garden here. You smiled as you saw Eris grinning happily, shifting on his feet. If you didn't know better, you would say he was nervous.

You sent a slight tug on the bond as you walked down the aisle, smiling as you saw his smile grow. Soon the bond would be even stronger. You were excited to feel it in full force, but you knew it would take time.

You took a deep breath as you reached the front, smiling as Rhys kissed your cheek, shaking Eris's hand before he went to sit next to Feyre. You took Eris's hand when he offered it and stepped onto the dais. "Still as handsome as ever." You complimented, smoothing down his golden tunic, the twin to yours.

"And you're still as gorgeous as ever." He said, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek before you turned towards the priestess together.

As the priestess finished her sermon, you and Eris faced each other, the golden ribbon you chose wrapping around your wrists and hands as you spoke the words of an Autumn wedding:

"Two hearts, one wish, two tongues, one language, two ropes, join connected, two souls, one journey."

And then the words of a Night Court wedding followed:

"With a tie not easy to break Take the time of bindin’ Before the final vows are made To learn what we need to know, To grow in wisdom and love. That our marriage will be strong, That our love will last In this life and beyond."

Tears were gathered in your eyes as the priestess gave the final vow, "May you both be blessed with the fortitude of the Cauldron, the brightness of the sun, and the brilliance of the moon. May you have the magnificence of fire, speed of lightning, quickness of wind, depth of the sea, stability of earth, and the sturdiness of rock. May your joys be as sweet as the flowers that blossom in spring and as radiant as the summer sun. May the shower of autumn leaves bring to you faith and fortune, and may your love be resilient amidst the long star-filled nights."

"You are hers, and he is yours. May the Mother bless you in these days and the days to come. Until the light leaves each other you. In this life and the next." She nodded to Eris, pronouncing you husband and wife.

Eris smiled lovingly down at you, cupping your cheeks as he brought you in for a tender kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, the crowd's cheers drowned out by your love for the male standing in front of you.

When you pulled away, you had to remind yourself to stay standing at the dais, as your inauguration as a High Lady would be next.

Eris kissed you once more before pulling back. The golden ribbon that connected you stayed on your hands as you knelt before Eris, watching him kneel in front of you as well.

The ceremony for the High Lady was new, and Feyre helped you plan it. Since you didn't have any power from Autumn, Eris offered you part of his. If you were to be his High Lady of Autumn, you were going to have fire in your veins. You couldn't deny him when he gave you a very specific loving look. One that got you both into trouble more than you could count.

You dipped your head as the priestess said the ceremonial words Feyre and you had wrote (with a little help from Nesta), and you felt Eris's hand lightly touch the top of your head as he transferred a drop of his power to you. As you closed your eyes, you breathed in the newfound fire in your veins. You opened your eyes, directly into Eris's. His auburn hair seemed to shine brighter, and your violet eyes were now flecked with gold. Courtesy of the fire now burning within you.

Eris and you stood together, still connected by the golden ribbon, as the priestess introduced the new High Lord and High Lady of Autumn, Eris and (Y/N) Vanserra.

Part Five

A/N: ... This still isn't the end.. The mating bond ceremony??? Maybe some smut afterwards??? (if you can't tell, i'm obsessed with these two)

Join the taglist here (I will not be adding people from the comments)

Wedding vow source here and here... I'm so bad with them so I decided to take from Welsh and Scottish vows/blessings... If I remember the court layout correctly I think that would be accurate.

Tagging (thank you for all your lovely comments, they fuel my writing for the better every day): @96jnie @rcarbo1 @circe143 @bookwormysblog @stuff-i-found-while-crying @acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck @optimistic-but-very-realistic @minaethrym @herondale-lightworm @saltedcoffeescotch @faridathefairy @alliex-o @mariahoedt @falszywe @d3ad-ins1de @anyzandy @mulledwinetea @myromanempiree @ysmtttty @dumblani @brighterthanlonelythoughts @micaxrocky @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @windblownwinston @the-golden-jhope @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @homeslices @todaystheday @quackquackhun @Kayhud05 @forgiveliv @of-outerspace @darkbloodsly @sarahswiftie23 @edance2000 @myrtlethai @superspideyparker @tothestarsandwhateverend @adharanotfound @deancodedgirlie @plants-w0rld @confusedsezure @theanxietyqueen17 @megzdoodle @batboyslover @grace-mint @adaliajaycee @tortured-artists @tenshis-cake @andreperez11 @thesongofselene @ibysworld @marielouiseva @inky-sun @high-speed-r @lilah-asteria @antonia002 @fallingforharry-1 @azrielswhore @theshekinahb

@lostpirateinwonderland @tamara8646 @bluesylveon2 @microwaveallthedemons @paleidiot @krowiathemythologynerd @saverockandroll54 @elizastea-529 @aurorab99 @eve_the_tree @theravenphoenix26 @mybestfriendmademe

#loving flames fic #acotar #katie writes #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #acotar fic #acotar spoilers #eris fic

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prollywolly · 4 months ago

Text

Meeting The Family [S. Gojo]

summary: part of what lured you into satoru's arms was his wit and his charm. little do you know, he uses the same tricks on your family when he first meets them. and it works.

warnings: just gojo being a charmer.

word count: 1k words

a/n: hihi everyone! so sorry about the inactivity. i've been pretty busy with work, but i'm just now finding my groove of writing again. i've put my miguel o'hara story on hold until i can get my notes together and assemble the first actual chapter. for now, enjoy this jjk brainrot that came to me at work today:) thank you for understanding!

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

meeting your family was the next step in yours and satoru's relationship. your family was important to you and he understood that meeting them meant that you trusted him enough to bring your relationship to this level.

the second you rang the doorbell, satoru turned to look down at you. he didn't seem like he was nervous at all, but you knew that internally he was a bit skeptical of what your family would think of him. "oh my goodness! i'm so happy to see you!" your mom welcomed you with open arms, smiling brightly as she embraced you.

"you must be y/n's older sister," satoru smirked, outstretching his hand for her to shake.

your mom's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed with a pink tint. she ran a hand through her hair and giggled at satoru's comment.

oh god, here we go.

"her sister? you're too kind! i'm her mother, it's nice to meet youuu..."

gojo smiled brightly and looked shocked. you stifled your laughter to the best of your ability as you watched your mother fawn over your boyfriend.

"satoru, so nice to finally meet you! i can't believe you're her mother,"

as your mom let the both of you inside, you were met with the rest of your extended family. as your mom introduced satoru to each family member, all of them couldn't help but marvel at the energy he emitted.

not to mention he was twice everyone's height.

as the evening went on, gojo had managed to earn favoritism amongst all of your family members. any playful banter that turned into slight bickering?

how could you talk to him like that, y/n?

he stood up to serve himself the dinner that your mom and grandmother worked so hard on?

how dare you not get up and serve your boyfriend!

satoru was no help at all to the onslaught of criticism you got.

"yeah, y/n. why are you being so mean to me?"

he looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout as you rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

all of these small comments may sound annoying, but to you? you were elated to see how much your family already liked him. tonight was the greenest of flags for approval and this is all that it meant to you.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

everyone was sat out in the backyard watching gojo fool around with your nieces and nephew. as you sipped on your water, your aunt broke the silence that sat between all of the women at the table.

"he's perfect for you, honey."

"if i was about thirty years younger, i'd definitely steal him from you,"

"grandma!" you exclaimed, all of the women at the table laughing heartily at her outburst.

you turned to look back at your boyfriend, smiling fondly as your two nieces clung to his legs. the smile that rested on his face as he stomped around with the two girls on his legs, desperately trying to chase after your nephew was something out of a movie.

he turned to you. just for a second. and you swore that you fell in love all over again. he tossed a quick wink your way before turning back to the kids, falling softly onto the grass as they all jumped on top of him.

"mina! get off that poor boy!" your aunt shouted at her daughter. "you're gonna hurt him!"

gojo waved off the worry in your aunt with a flick of his hand.

"oh, she's just playing! right, mina?"

the small girl nodded her head with the cutest pout you'd ever seen. gojo scrunched up his nose and laughed as the other two children grabbed his sunglasses and played with his hair.

"you seem like you're so happy with him," it was the most sincere your mom had been all night. "and he's good to you?"

you looked over at satoru and couldn't help the way your heart swelled at how gentle he was being with the kids.

"he gives me the world and more..."

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"well it was nice to meet you, satoru! you're welcome back any time!"

gojo's eyes brightened and he gave your mother a charming smile. as your mother opened her arms to hug him goodbye, he stooped down to her height and gave her a small squeeze.

"i'll definitely be back for some more of that banana pudding you made tonight!~"

as your family waved goodbye from behind the door, satoru led you over to his car and opened the passenger side door for you.

your drive back home wasn't too long, but you could tell that he was just waiting to hear about what your family thought of him.

"they loved you 'toru," you chuckled, rubbing his hand with your thumb.

he squeezed your intertwined hand tightly and smacked the steering wheel with his other hand.

"i think they like me more than you, baby."

he took his bottom lip under his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows at you. with a light smack to his bicep he laughed off your slight annoyance.

"i'm never bringing you back ever again," you shook your head and stared out the windshield, watching the headlights of the car bounce back off the garage door of your house.

"that's too bad. i'll just text your mom and ask her when i need to show up!"

his phone illuminated with your mom's phone number, the contact name being 'mother in-law' as some sort of sick joke towards you.

"when did you get my mom's number?!"

gojo smirked and peered over his sunglasses to meet your eyes.

"right after i got your aunt's."

#anime #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #x reader #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader

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impactrueno · 22 days ago

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hello dear! I was wondering and i apologize if you’ve already been asked but I was curious…ik that that toonjuice cares about Lydia like a niece/daughter, and the musical cares about her too, how would both react at how keetenjuice treated movie Lydia in the first film when she was a kid?…like say they never knew he was a p#do, how would they react? (And I’m sorry if this sounds bad or weird I’m just curious if they’re protective and shit or?…😭😭)

ok sorry first off i gotta reiterate: movie beetlejuice is not....a pedo....he was just using lydia as a green card thing just like musical beetlejuice.........he says it himself

this misconception comes from people repeating it a lot, especially after they spread the knowledge about the first versions of the movie script (which they changed for good reason,) but when you watch the actual movie and pay attention to what he says and how the wedding goes, it's a lot more clear that his sole intent was to cross over as soon as the wedding was finalized and get the hell out. especially now that we can compare that scene to the sequel where he actually IS into lydia now as an adult (which is creepy as hell on its own but it's very much not pedophilia let's not water down the terms here) and THIS wedding is like a WHOLE thing, he relishes it, he's not frantically hurrying it up, he takes his sweet time trying to woo lydia and enjoys it. his attitude could not be more different this time around

ok now that that's out of the way

if you're asking about my comics specifically, i've been writing them like they're already caught up with what went down with their respective lydias. each of them knows that movie bj tried to marry his lydia twice and has been stalking her for 30 years (he himself mentions it and musical bj uses that against him to insult him,) that musical bj DID marry his lydia but she immediately killed him (cartoon bj called her the "little black widow" and movie bj mocks him for getting tricked into it, as if he himself didn't also get tricked into marriage and murdered by his first wife lol) and that cartoon bj is best friends with his lydia and hangs out with her all the time (babysitting her, as movie bj put it.) the rest, they've been finding out through their conversations.

cartoon bj as we already know is jealously protective of his lydia, but musical bj ehhh not that much. hell, i'd argue he needs to be protected from her, lol.

i think he just knows she can take care of herself, she IS tougher than she looks and he can personally vouch for that. he did step in to save her from his mother, but i think that might've just been because he literally owed her his (incredibly brief) life and he wasn't gonna let someone take that from her. that has more to do with how he himself feels about life and death than how he feels about his lydia, i think. i'm not saying he doesn't care about her because he clearly does. but it's not like the dynamic cartoon bj and lyds have.

cartoon bj's protectiveness of lydia stems solely from how much he cares about her. he's not noble, he's not a hero, he's not a good guy, he doesn't protect her because it's the right thing to do, but because that's HIS best friend and no one better touch a hair on her head or take her away from him. a little selfish but oddly sweet in his own beetlejuicey way. lydia thinks so, at least.

i went off on a tangent here but i think establishing how they feel will help ppl understand where i'm coming from with this argument.

your question is how they would react to learning how movie bj treated his lydia when she was 15:

i talked a bit about how cartoon bj wouldn't stand up to the other two because he knows he has no room to talk, and i think he would only take action if either of them tried to do anything to his lydia (which they won't, obviously, but HE doesn't know that and doesn't trust them) but he also can't help but have a fondness for the other two lydias even if he doesn't really know them. he probably thinks hey if they're lydia, they're probably great. cartoon lydia has similar feelings about the other two juices; she thinks they can't possibly be that bad. but she's not stupid, she's also a bit wary. i think she just wants to get to know them and understand them, maybe sees them as misunderstood, just like how she sees her own beej.

now musical bj.........lol he would be the KING OF HYPOCRITES if he gave movie bj any shit about what he did, because he did exactly the same and was WAY more aggressive about it. he's extremely volatile and that makes him the most dangerous of the three in my opinion. he and lydia became friends, she left him alone for a bit to find out if she could see her dead mom again, his mommy issues and abandonment issues made him take that extremely personally ("you wanna treat me like a demon? then i'll be a demon") and he immediately decided he was gonna backstab her and force her to marry him so he could become alive and not be alone anymore. he tricked her the exact same way jeremy tricked astrid and almost got barbara killed just to extort lydia into agreeing to the marriage and possibly to also get back at her for leaving him, at the maitlands for helping her and everyone else for getting in his way. full on rampage. then when he falls for her bait and switch, he goes "ok well my plan failed so now i'm gonna kill ALL OF YOU"

if anything i think movie bj would be the one questioning musical bj about this stuff, especially now that he seems to have genuine feelings for lydia and helped her save astrid and get rid of rory (the rory thing was a freebie too, but i guess he needed him out of the picture if he planned to marry lydia anyway.) how he dealt with rory and jeremy shows that he actually has some integrity, and from how he talks about dolores we know that "even he has his limits." he follows through with every single deal he's made and he's never lied to lydia once. you can't say the same thing for the other two juices (cartoon bj constantly disappointing his lydia with his lies and lack of integrity, and musical bj for lying to, tricking and backstabbing his lydia)

i think movie bj would come up to musical bj, drape an arm over his shoulder to pull him closer "hey c'mere. lawrence. may i call you lawrence? just wanted to know what the hell is yer damage. lydia can teach ya some breathing exercises to, yknow, control yer emotions so you can stop making a fool of yerself know what i mean?" pat him firmly and stare him down with a scary sleazy smile. musical bj does need therapy. like. asap lol

it's interesting because it's not how you would expect things to go. but when you look closely and compare each of them....it's what makes the most sense.

at least that's what i think, this is all my opinion of course

#beetleposting

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sisgotdemons · 2 years ago

Note

Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh

Birthday Boy

Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.

Word Count || 1,227

Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)

Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!

It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.

"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.

"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.

"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"

"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.

There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."

"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.

You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"

Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.

"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.

“Right now?”

“Yeah dummy, right now.”

“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.

“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.

“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.

“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”

“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”

He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.

His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.

You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.

He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.

"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.

You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.

He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.

“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”

A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.

“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.

"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.

"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.

"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us smut

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moon4411 · 5 months ago

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Azriel x mate reader (Rhysand's sister)

Warning: angst? Fluff? Idk, my bad gramatic.

Where is he?_ I forcefully open the front door, the intense pain in my lower back prevents me from keep walking, so strong that I let out a groan.- Mor, step aside if you're not going to help.

What are you doing here? You should be in be... oh my god, you're bleeding!_ Mor took my hands to guide me to the nearest chair. – Where is Azriel?

Mor, please, i need to see him, it's been so long. _ I beg, letting out a tear for my brother who I haven't seen since he sacrificed himself for all of us and remained under the reign of Amarantha.

okay, it's upstairs, but I must warn you; we have visitors._She directs me to the hallway where is Rhysand.

A small argument reaches my ears as I get closer, I can see the blur of a shoe ending on my brother's head, then Rhys turns his gaze and collides with mine. So many years avoiding looking in the mirror for fear of seeing the purple color of my eyes, the same color as my twin's eyes.

Sister_ he whispers, and from the color that leaves his face I know that he has already perceived the smell of blood, as well as my hands that have some stains and my simple blue dress with the folds of the skirt of a crimson red color that is already turning brown.

He turns his gaze to the thin girl on the other side of the hallway, she is wearing an ostentatious dress and seems to be frowning until her gaze meets mine and sudendly changes to one of concern or fear. -Rest Feyre, you'll need it. We'll talk in the morning.

As Rhys walks slowly towards me I can hear the guest's door close and my brother's breathing become more erratic. He take my hands and starts crying. -W-what happened? Are you okay? _ he turns to look at the hallway i came through, looks at Mor and then at the floor, finding a path of blood.

Maybe it's because of the adrenaline that little by little leaves my body or maybe it's the shock of meeting my twin again, but I only manage to take two steps and hug him before i faint letting all my weight fall on him.

The next time I open my eyes again i'm on a bed, I recognize the walls, is my old room.

She's very pale, we have to call Madja_ Rhys's face is full of tears and his hands don't stop shaking. –Rhys, RHYS, calm down_ Mor's tone is severe. -She's fine, just a little tired, she should be in bed, not winnowing and looking for you in the middle of the night. Madja is already on her way with Azriel, but I need you to stay calm, okay? I promise you everything is okay, I know she's bleeding but in a moment you'll understand, you just breathe.

Apparently that calms him and he proceeds to take a seat near my bed while holding my hand.

I manage to smile slightly at him. –I'm fine, I promise Rhys.

Yes, well i'm not okay._ Azriel enters the room looking very angry, but I can't help but smile at how cute he looks carrying a small baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

I squeeze my brother's hand tighter as I watch how he is looking at Azriel and back to me.

Rhys, I want you to meet Emma, your niece.

Rhysand bursts into tears and Azriel brings our daughter to him so he can hold her for the first time. he smiles at me.- I think you two have a lot to tell me.

We let out a little laugh. –oh, believe me, they do._ Mor answers. –I'll go get Madja, I think she needs help carrying things to clean you up and make sure you're okay.

I nod and with a little help from Azriel manage to sit on the bed to take my daughter in my arms.

I missed you a lot Rhys.

Me too, I missed you sister, but don't worry, from now on, nothing will be able to separate me from you.

I think you can tell that English is not my first language, so... Yeah I did my best. I spent like 5 years without writing because of my depression, but I think it's a good time to come back.

tell me what you think✨🫶🏽

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #feyre acotar #acotar imagine #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #oc #azriel x you #azriel x oc #acomaf #cassian #elain archeron #nesta archeron

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

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Sentimental | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before.

Warnings: just a bunch of pre-wedding fluff, mention of a death of a minor character

Word Count: 2227

A/N: it’s been a bit since I’ve written a daughter!reader story….I hope this one makes sense, and I’m sorry if I got a little too sappy on it haha. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Right, love...you're all finished," Polly said to her grand niece as she finished doing up the final button on the younger woman's wedding dress.

"Thanks, aunt Pol," (Y/N) smiled, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before she turned to face the older woman. "Can you believe the day is finally here?" she asked, a giddy smile present on her face.

Though she was an aunt by blood, Polly Gray was more so like a mother in the eyes of (Y/N) Shelby. The woman who held the title of mother in (Y/N)'s life passed away shortly after childbirth due to the complications and conditions she found herself in. The Shelby's took little (Y/N) in, raising her in their tight knit family. Polly stepped up the most to help, feeling thankful for this opportunity after her son and daughter had been taken away months earlier.

Tommy, (Y/N)'s father, was thankful for his aunt taking it upon herself to fill the void that his daughter had, a void that he knew she would feel for the rest of her life. He wouldn't have been able to come out and ask for the help, and so he was grateful that Polly knew he needed it. Hell, he was young himself - only being a few days shy of twenty when his daughter entered the world. But now this child needed him, and he was going to do everything that he could to give her the world.

Even though her father married, and then re-married, (Y/N) stayed close with Polly, thankful that she had her as a constant in her otherwise rapidly changing life. She couldn't imagine any other person helping her get ready for her wedding.

"I can," Polly answered, looking at the young woman before she pulled her into her body for a hug. "You've grown into such a beautiful, young woman, and I already know you'll make the best bride," she whispered into (Y/N)'s ear, her words making (Y/N) hug onto her even tighter.

"You're already the most beautiful bride," another voice that came from the dressing room's door made the two women seperate.

"Aunt Ada!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her eyes lighting up once they fell on the woman in the doorway, "come in quickly, before James sees me!" she waved her aunt in, worried that her soon-to-be husband would be lurking in the hallways.

"Don't worry about that," Ada brushed her off, entering the room and closing the door as she spoke, "I'm pretty sure the cheering that I heard from his dressing room means that he won't be leaving it any time soon...until it's time to walk down the aisle, that is," she added, a grin forming on her face. (Y/N) shook her head, rolling her eyes at her aunt's words. "I have something for you," Ada announced then, lifting up the small box she was holding, "two things, actually,"

"What are they?" (Y/N) asked, eagerness present in her voice as she watched Ada open up the box she'd brought.

"The first is the veil that I promised you..." Ada started off, working on taking the piece of fabric out of the box while she was talking, "I know you mentioned you wanted the floral accents on it as well, so I tried hard to add as many as I could while I was making it," she explained as she handed it over to (Y/N), letting the younger woman unfold it so that she could take all of it in.

"It's absolutely beautiful, aunt Ada! Thank you so much!" she gasped once she was able to look at it in its entirety. (Y/N) knew that she needed to have her aunt make her veil for her from the moment she found out about her crafty side. Seeing it now, she was sure that she'd never put her eyes on a veil as beautiful as this one.

"Shall we put it on?" Polly suggested, making (Y/N) turn to look at her. All that the younger woman was able to respond with was a giddy nod, but it was enough for the older two women to begin working on making sure that it was properly pinned to her head. "It’ll be draped over your face once you're ready to walk down the aisle," Polly added once they'd finished making sure that it was sitting correctly.

"It's beautiful," (Y/N) swooned, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again, admiring the full wedding look.

"I have something else too," Ada spoke again, drawing attention to her as she went about opening the bag that she had with her.

"Ada you didn't have to..." (Y/N) trailed off, overwhelmed by the amount of love she was being shown.

"I brought you the 'something new', so I decided that I'd also bring you the 'something old' too," she started off, producing a pair of older-looking, nude colored heels from her bag, "do you remember these?" she asked the younger woman then, an excited look forming on her face as she waited intently for a response.

(Y/N) just about gasped when she saw the shoes. "No...those can't be..." she trailed off, at a loss for words at the moment.

"They are," Ada confirmed, her grin growing, "the exact shoes that you literally begged me to wear when you were younger."

"I can't believe you still have them!" (Y/N) was still in disbelief.

"I nearly spent a day rooting for them in my closet," Ada remarked with a laugh as the women moved over to the couches so that (Y/N) could try them on. "I knew I had to find them though," she added, waiting anxiously to see her niece try them on.

"Do you think they'll fit?" (Y/N) questioned, slightly hesitant to slip her feet into them.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," Ada answered, nodding at the shoes then.

She was right. (Y/N) looked between the two women before she slipped her feet into the shoes, holding her breath while she did it. She only let it out when she found that they fit practically perfectly on her feet.

"How are they?" Polly questioned.

"Perfect," (Y/N) responded, a wide smile present on her face as she looked at the other women again. "I can't believe you're letting me use these, aunt Ada," she then turned to the brown haired woman sitting next to her.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to have them," Ada smiled back, wrapping her arms around (Y/N) in a tight hug. "Don't mess up the make up!" she exclaimed once they pulled away, quickly reaching for some tissue so that she could dry (Y/N)'s eyes.

"This seems to be the perfect time to give you this as well..." Polly began, coming over to where (Y/N) was standing with something in her hands.

"Oh no not you now too, Pol!" (Y/N) blubbered, completely overwhelmed with emotion at the moment.

Polly didn't listen to her and instead opened her hand to reveal a bracelet that had blue gemstones encased between the gold band.

"Something blue?" (Y/N) questioned, looking from the bracelet back to her great aunt, her eyes already watering again. Polly only nodded, a smile present on her face as she came closer to (Y/N). The younger woman knew what to do, holding out her wrist so that her aunt could clasp the bracelet onto it. "It's absolutely beautiful, Polly," she whispered, too overcome by emotion to fully trust her voice at the moment. "Thank you, both, so, so much," she added, looking at both Polly and Ada, who each sent smiles back.

"Now you're ready to be married," Ada commented, glancing over at the clock then, "and it's just about time for the ceremony to start."

"It is time," another voice broke into the conversation, making the three women look over at the doorway.

"How long have you been here, Thomas?" Polly questioned, eyeing her nephew as she wondered when he managed to slip into the room without them noticing.

"Long enough," he gave one of his usual, ambiguous answers, but this time there was no hint of the impatience that he usually spoke it with. No, today Tommy Shelby was standing in the doorway smiling.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Polly turned to (Y/N) to check.

"I am," (Y/N) gave an assured nod, a smile present on her face as she looked back at her father.

"Pol, you and I should head out and make sure our seats are still open," Ada stated, placing her hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze before she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door.

"It's going to be wonderful," Polly whispered to (Y/N), pulling her in for one last hug before she went and joined her niece at the door. She whispered something to Tommy, something that (Y/N) couldn't hear, before she and Ada exited the dressing room.

"Ready?" Tommy asked (Y/N) once they were alone.

"Ready as I'll ever be," (Y/N) answered, letting out a breath then as the excited jitters started to build up in her stomach. A smile returned to her features as she walked over to her father. "Let's go," she said, nodding her head as she spoke.

"I have one last thing to give to you," Tommy stated, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's that, dad?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"I've been wearing this since the day that she left..." he started off, undoing the top button of his dress shirt so that he'd have an easier time taking off the gold necklace he was wearing. When he did get it off, (Y/N) saw that there was a locket on it as well. "This was my mum's. The flower on the front represents strength. The pictures on the inside are worn out, but the flower's still present, so I wear it for strength," he shared some details behind the necklace he wore everyday, holding it out for her to see it better. "I want you to wear it today," he finished his statement with a suggestion, one that (Y/N) was quickly nodding in agreement too. She'd never seen him be so sentimental about something before, and so she was honored to be able to borrow and wear it for the day.

Tommy smiled at her answer before he moved over and clasped the necklace around her neck. "It's pretty, dad," she commented as she got an even better look at the intricately designed locket.

"Your grandmum had good taste," he answered her, his words making her look up to see that he was trying hard to keep the tears back.

"If you start crying, I'll start crying," she told him, her words making him chuckle.

"I won't," he promised her.

A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face and she glanced down at the locket one last time before closing the gap and hugging her father tightly. "Thank you, dad," she whispered, trying her best to hold her tears back as he held onto her equally as tight.

"It's time," one of the ushers entered the room to announce.

"Ready?" Tommy asked his daughter as they pulled away from each other.

"So ready," she answered with a wide smile. "You ready?" she turned the question back onto him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered with a smile of his own, one that (Y/N) wished she could take a picture of and keep forever. She'd never seen her father smile so much.

"Let's go then," (Y/N) nodded, walking to the door with her father by her side.

They were led to where the doors that opened to the main room of the church were. As they got closer, (Y/N) could hear the music that was being played as everyone prepared for her entrance. The butterflies started fluttering like crazy as she and Tommy stopped at the closed doors. In just moments, she'd be brought down the aisle to the man who would be her husband.

Tommy couldn't help but look at his daughter as they waited for the signal to go. He still couldn't believe that today was her wedding day, and that in just a few moments he'd be walking her down the aisle. James was a good man (he'd made sure of that) a man who had promised to take care of (Y/N) until his last day. As much as he didn't want to let her go, he knew he had to. She'd grown up right in front of him and become a young woman, who he was so immensely proud of.

"Ready, dad?" his daughter's question pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he used the same answer that he'd given her in the dressing room, his response making her giggle.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered to him then, taking his outstretched arm, wrapping hers around it.

"Never," he promised her, sending her a wink and a small smile before the doors opened and they took their first step down the aisle.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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talaok · 1 year ago

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ok first of all, I love your writing!!! a scenario just popped into my head and I found it so funny, the reader and Pedro have been dating for some time, Pedro doesn't want to have children but you were always good with children and after a children's party you went together and he realized (or thought) that you were strange when interacting with the children (which would be just tiredness) made him nervous and anxious thinking that you were frustrated because you wanted children and he didn't, during the night he can barely sleep and that means he gets up early and being impatient waiting for you to wake up, and at the first sign that you are waking up the first thing he says is: be honest, do you want to have children? and the reader is confused like dude it’s 7 am wtf??? I leave her answer and the end up to you and your incredible imagination, kisses 💋

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: no bc bestie I genuinely love this idea so much like omg im sorry if i didn't do it justice but tomorrow im getting some very fucking important news and my mind is a bit all over the place

"Auntie!"

Your beaming niece ran to you as soon as soon as you stepped into the backyard.

"There's the birthday girl!" you grinned, picking Nora up to give her a tight hug

"I missed you!" she squealed, as her small arms reached around your neck "You never visit anymore"

You snorted "Did your mom tell you to say that?"

The way your sister was biting down a grin told you all you needed to know.

"no" she mumbled, making you huff a laugh.

Your sister was raising the perfect actress.

"Well aren't you miss popular?" you gasped, looking around at all the children running around the place "These all your friends?" you asked, as she turned to follow your gaze

"yep" she nodded proudly "I basically know every kid at school"

"well there's something you didn't take from your mom..." you joked, raising your eyebrows at your sister

"hey!" she shot you a look

"I'm just saying" you shrugged "I don't remember your birthday parties being this big"

"oh shut up, you're one to talk" she rolled her eyes.

"hi Pedro!" Nora noticed him as he walked into the backyard with your sister's husband.

"hi Nora" he smiled, walking closer

"Is it your fault that y/n never visits anymore?"

Pedro was very much taken aback by the bluntness, but all you could do was chuckle.

"oh my god, I'm so sorry" your sister intervened, taking her daughter from you "Here why don't you go play with your friends?" she suggested, making her comply immediately.

"I swear I didn't tell her to say that" she promised, looking as mortified as she sounded.

"I know Alice" you grinned "don't worry"

"I'm sorry Pedro" she turned to him nonetheless.

"It's fine" he smiled that charming smile of his

"Nora's just very..."

"Exuberant" her husband finished the sentence for her

"yes, exactly" she nodded

You laughed softly "That's definitely one way to put it"

The next hour was spent chatting at one of the tables Jeremy, your sister's husband, had set up on the lawn, and as you talked and ate, and drank more champagne than water the tiredness started to really make itself heard.

The flight from LA to Washington was six hours and a half, so you had to travel during the night, and as much as you wanted to sleep during it, you never were able to do so on planes.

So you were basically only running on coffee, and not even the good kind, no, the shitty airport one.

A tug at your hand brought you out of your own thoughts.

"Auntie!" your niece was saying

"sorry" you smiled down at her, setting your glass down "What's up sweetie?"

"come play Simon says!"

You had to fight the urge to groan. The last thing you wanted to do right now was to play a game with a bunch of screaming children.

"right now?" you asked

"Yes"

"but-"

"c'mooon," Nora moaned, jumping up and down a bit "I want you to meet my friends"

You sighed slightly as you stood up

"lead the way birthday girl"

And as you disappeared behind a tree, dragged by your own niece, Pedro couldn't help but think

That was weird

And that same thought continued making its way into his mind over and over again.

You've never hesitated when it came to playing with Nora, you loved that kid so much you would have given her the world on a silver platter had she just said the word.

You weren't constantly taking pictures of her because you "wanted to remember every single moment with her" as you insisted every time, you weren't smiling every time you just looked at her either, and you weren't even entertaining the kids like you always did.

Fuck, Jacob and Alice used to tease you every time saying that they didn't need entertainers for her parties when you were there, that's how good you were with children.

Not that today you weren't good with them, Pedro could see and hear the laughs you'd elicit from the small crowd, but still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong... and that he had something to do with it.

You were asleep beside him, and he didn't know if it was because you were in your sister's guest room and not in your own bedroom, or if was because guilt was clawing at him from within, but as much as he tried to sleep, his body opposed to it.

He was looking at you... so peaceful, so pretty, so beautiful and all he could feel was guilty.

He had racked his brain as to why you were acting weird for hours and then finally, thirty minutes ago he'd finally got it.

It was his fault

Of course, it was.

The only thing that had changed since you last saw Nora, was that talk you'd had that day at the park.

God, he was so goddamn stupid.

"Another reason as to why I don't want children"

He'd said it so casually too, as a stupid joke, like it was nothing, without even thinking that maybe that's not what you wanted, that maybe he was ruining everything.

And now he'd fucked everything up, and panic was rising in his chest so fast that he worried in mere minutes he was gonna go into cardiac arrest.

And yes you'd told him you didn't want children too, but maybe you just said it because that's what he said and you probably hated him and-

Fuck were you ever gonna wake up?

he had thought about doing it himself but then realized how bad of an idea that was when he was halfway into shaking your arm.

He needed to talk to you. Now.

He needed to know, and to beg you, and to tell you to forget all about what he said at the park because it all went flying out the window when it was about you and-

Your eyelids fluttered, and shit but for a moment he pondered the existence of a god.

A whimper left your mouth as you readjusted your head on the pillow and he couldn't hold it anymore.

"Be honest"

Your eyes flew open in shock as your heart skipped a beat.

"Holy fucking- Jesus!" you breathed "You scared me, Pedro"

"Do you want children?"

Your eyes widened even more as your features filled with confusion

"What the actual f-"

"I know that I said that I don't want kids, and I know that you agreed with me, but if that's not really what you want or if- if you changed your mind I want you to know that I-"

You propped yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him.

Was he fucking high or something?

"Pedro first of all it's..." you trailed off, glancing at your phone and groaning when you read the numbers on the screen "Oh my god" you sighed, running a hand down the length of your face "and second of all, what are you talking about baby?" you sighed, your voice softening as you took in his worried face for the fist time since you'd opened your eyes.

He took your hand in his

"I'm talking about the fact that I take it back- that if you want to have children then I'm sure I can make it work, that I love you y/n, and I don't want to lose you and that-"

"lose me?" you frowned, trying to squint your sleep away "Children?" you shook your head, trying to make some sense of what was going on "Pedro I- I'm sorry I thought we'd agreed neither of us wanted children?"

"Yes, but I understand if you've changed your mind"

"Why would I have changed my mind?" you asked, sitting up "Where is this coming from?"

"I just-" he looked like a sad puppy with those big brown eyes of his "You were acting weird today at the birthday and I couldn't help but think that-"

"That I wanted children?" you smiled, doing a poor job of hiding your amusement

"Well...yes"

"oh my god" you breathed, moving some messy hair out of your face "I was tired baby" you explained with a grin "I didn't sleep for shit on the plane and I wasn't exactly feeling like running around kids like I usually do"

Now was his turn to frown

"Really?"

"yes!"

"O-Oh"

"yeah, oh" you shook your head, still unable to get rid of the smile on your lips.

"Well this is embarrassing" he let out a low huff "I just... I don't know-"

you sat up to get closer to him as you inspected his face.

"Oh baby," you cooed, stroking his cheek "Did you even sleep?"

"I tried to"

Your lips pulled into a sorry tilt as you intertwined your arms behind his neck.

"I don't want children baby" you said "I love our life exactly as it is"

"I'm sorry" he murmured

"No don't be" you shook your head, letting your forehead meet with his "It was kind of sweet to be honest" you beamed, leaving a quick kiss on his lips

"Did you really mean it? that you'd have children if that's what I wanted?"

And when he looked at you now, you felt as if he was staring right into your soul.

"Sweetheart" he murmured "I'm not sure there's anything on this earth I wouldn't do for you"

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viperrot · 1 year ago

Note

I also have a small request if possible. I'm thinking of something with old Leon x single mother reader. Leon is moving to a new neighborhood for a while and his neighbor is reader. I was thinking that the reader's daughter (possibly 2-3 years old) would see him once and be crazy about him, screaming all day that she wants to touch his hair 🤭🤭. And Leon being... well, Leon doesn't know how to react, but he starts to like the little one and little by little falls in love with the reader. I was thinking damnation Leon (he deserves so much love ugh😔🤭). Further, I'll leave it up to you to develop the story as you want. Kissss 😘😘😘😘

P.S. I love your stories❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

⇁apple pie | leon kennedy

Post RE4 leon s. kennedy x single-mother!reader

there's a new person living in the house next door, and your daughter is incredibly excited to make a new friend. so, what better way to welcome him than with a pie?

content includes: strangers to friends (to lovers)?, leon trying to be normal and failing, who let this guy talk to women?, reader checks out leon oops!, reader is described as feminine-dressed, reader is called momma, reader and baby is implied to be of asian background oops sorry i am asian so this just happened very naturally and i am a slave to my brain + too lazy to change it

not proofread i am sleepy

2497 words

song rec: "love me" by elvis presley

this is written with Vendetta, Damnation, and ID! leon in mind. i recently hung out with my little niece, who is named mei, so i just decided to name the little one mei as well! hope you enjoy, anon ^w^

"Momma, momma!" you hear your little one yelp from the front yard. You look up from your dishes, confused and fearful that your precious daughter had injured herself. Peeping out the window right above your sink, you immediately spot your tiny child pointing to her right with a sparkling eyes, her chubby little fingers extending as far as they could. You cock your head questioningly as you walk towards the wide-open front door to check what she was trying to show you, your hands patting against the fabric of your dress as you stepped out onto your wrap-around porch.

Hiding behind the vines of your overhead plants, you squint between the leaves to try and get a look of what your daughter, Mei, was trying to show you. Slowly, you make out what seems to be a man fumbling with his keys. His cocoa coloured hair swayed as his clumsily handled his keys in front of his door, his jaw tightening as he grew increasingly frustrated with himself. You watch him curiously, unknowing of your little one stumbling across the yard and onto the porch the stranger stood at.

"W-what the-" you hear the man stutter, dropping his keys as he frantically looks down at his feet. You can feel the corners of your eyes crinkle as you try to get a better look from the vines of your precious plants, and you realize that Mei had found herself tugging at the man's pants. You gasp and trip your way over to the front of his house, shoeless with your apron practically falling off.

"Mei-Mei, you can't just run after strangers!" You grow embarrassed the closer you get to them. You stood just in front of the porch when you finally get a good look of the man.

Your cherub of a daughter is basically climbing the poor man at this point, jumping up and down at his feet as she bumbles out her baby-gibberish—things like "Hair! Hair!" and "Do you like pie? Hey, mister! Pie?" coming out in one long string of rambling. Quickly, you go up the small set of steps and pick up Mei by the waist, tucking her into yourself as you sheepishly apologize to the stranger.

"I-I am so so so so sorry, sir, I didn't realize she was so excited to see you," you stammer out, trying to contain the little babe that was trying to climb out of your arms.

The man in front of you is gorgeous, standing at six-feet-two with those heavy boots of his. His dark brown hair framed his face to accentuate the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the deep blue of eyes piercing through your body as if you were simply a window. He stood tall and stiff, chest slightly puffed out in his black leather jacket and white t-shirt combo. The denim jeans he wore did nothing to hide his legs, the bulge of his thighs almost giving you whiplash. His eyes lock onto yours, his plump lips slightly parted.

“It’s alright,” he grunts. “She’s just a kid,” the man nods at the cooing cherub in your arms, who was craning her body backwards with her arms stretched out in attempt to touch his hair.

“S-still, I should have been watching her. Sh-she isn’t normally so… uh…”

“Excited? It’s alright, ma’am,” he lets out a soft chuckle, his head shaking side-to-side. You feel a blush begin to dust over your cheeks, and begin to to step backward.

“Y-yeah, excited. Anyways,” you clear your throat. “I’m still sorry. I-if you need anything, I’m right next door!” You bow slightly before booking it back to your home, bare feet treading against the lawn connecting the houses together. You feel a bit guilty for not introducing yourself to him, but you were so embarrassed by Mei, you couldn’t help but run away.

“Momma, go back! Back!” Mei began to cry, her lip quivering as she looked over your shoulder. Her little arms reached for the stranger, who was watching from his porch.

The door shut behind you, and your daughter let the tears flow. Distraught, you set your little one down on the couch just a few steps away from the door and dragged your thumbs across the apples of her cheeks, asking her softly about what was wrong. Mei hiccuped and sniffled, snot smearing across her tiny lips as she cried.

“What’s wrong, Mei-Mei?” You frown, bringing your apron up to her flat little nose to wipe away the boogers. She trembles as you comfort her.

“I-I wanna touch his hair,” she sniffles, her tiny palms rubbing against her cheeks to wipe the tears. “Can we p-please see him again, Momma,” Mei’s frown deepens, and you feel your heart break at the sight.

“Mei-Mei, he’s a stranger. We can’t talk to strangers—especially not ones who don’t seem to want to talk to us,” you explain to the child. Tears continue to fall.

“B-but, Momma-“

“Mei-Mei,” you sigh tiredly, unable to resist your sweet daughter. “How about this—if you help me make it, we can bake a pie for the mister tomorrow and maybe we can see him again, okay?” Your daughter visibly perks up at this, the waterworks ceasing as she looks up at you with her sparkling eyes.

“Really!? Do you promise, Momma!?” She gasps, her chubby hands squeezing her cheeks with excitement. You nod at her with a gentle smile, and she jumps out of her spot on the couch, flailing around the living room like a wound-up puppy.

Mei wouldn’t stop talking about the man for the rest of the night.

"This one! Oh, oh, no, I meant... this one!"

"Sweetheart, these are too red. We need green ones."

"But... these are green, Momma?"

"Oh dear..." you sigh heavily, taking the Fuji apple out of Mei's hands and setting it in your cart. "Stay close to me okay, Mei-Mei?" You tug at the little cowlick on top of her head softly, making sure she understood to not run off. She let's out a little noise of understanding and keeps a tight fist on the end of your dress, trailing behind you as you searched for the greenest apples you could find.

The drive home from the grocery store was filled with questions you didn't know how to answer. Things like...

"Do you think the mister likes My Little Pony?"

"I wonder if mister has any pets. He looks like he has a chihuahua!"

"If mister had a cutie mark, what do you think it'd be, Momma?"

And other weird things a child would ask. You tried your best to answer each question, but everything just leaded to another awfully confusing query. As you pulled the car into the driveway, you notice the sexy motorbike in the new neighbour's own, the black finish shining beneath the morning sun. You get out of the car, helping Mei right after before grabbing the groceries from the trunk of your two-thousand-five Honda Accord.

You unlock the door of your sweet little home, pushing it wide open with a bump of your hip. Mei skips inside, a small toy of Fluttershy in her hand and a plastic bag containing her "element of harmony" (a single red delicious apple, which is apparently the "honesty" element, or something along that line) in the other. The door clicks shut behind you two, and you trip into the kitchen after you kick off your shoes. Setting the bags down on the counter, you sort out the groceries before calling for your little one.

"Mei-Mei! It's time to start baking, sweetie," you hear her clumsy feet tip-tap against the hardwood and smile brightly when her head peeps into the kitchen. Her honesty apple was clutched tight in her hands as she walked up to you giddily, excited to get to work. You pick her up and set her on top of the clear section of the counter.

You trust Mei with measuring the dry ingredients, with some supervision of course. Together, you make the pie crust and allow it to chill in the fridge as you make the filling. Mei is in the living room at this point, eyes glued to the television as she embarks on a friendship adventure with her pony friends.

Silently humming a nameless tune to yourself, you peel and core the small Granny Smith apples, dicing them into little cubes before setting them in a brown-sugar mixture. By noon, you had shaped the pies into the shape everyone knows them to be—apple shaped apple pies!

The delicate little balls were placed on the baking tray carefully, not wanting to ruin the perfect shape. You brushed the tops with an egg-yolk-and-water mixture before putting the cute pies into the oven, setting a timer for 15 minutes. Proud of yourself for cleaning up the generous mess in your beloved kitchen, you open up the window above the sink to let the air in.

While you lounged on the couch with your beloved little dumpling, you're unknowing to the man next door, tinkering away beneath his ebony Dodge Coronet 440. The scent of the sweet apple pie wafted to his nose, making him stop his repairs on his old model. Shaking his head, he tries to ignore the temptation to knock on his pretty neighbour's front door and ask for a slice.

The heat from the oven tickled your face as you carefully pulled the baking sheet out of the contraption, setting it down on the kitchen counter that was covered with a washcloth to avoid damaging the countertop. Mei watched you with a square-shaped tupperware in her chubby hands, eager to get the pie to the stranger next door.

You slide the oven-mittens off your hands and proudly look at your apple-apple-pies. Turning your attention to Mei, you pick her up so she can look too.

"Aren't they pretty, puddin'?" You coo. "You made these!" Mei claps her hands together happily, tupperware long forgotten with stars in her eyes as she beams at the sight of the apple-apple-pies.

"Can we take it to mister now?" the babe pratically vibrates in your grip with excitement. You nod at her and set her down on the floor, deciding to fish out a new tupperware box from one of your cabinets. When you find one of the proper size, you pack up one of the pies before you usher Mei out of the door after putting on your shoes, handing the container to her to carry.

Walking across the lawn, Mei immediately notices the open garage and makes a beeline towards the mass of legs beneath a black vintage car.

"Mister!! Mister!!!!" she practically yells, stomping over to the man beneath the car.

You can't help but admire the sight of the stranger. His thighs were practically ripping the denim of his jeans how tight they were on him, his white tank-top creeping up his stomach to reveal a small patch of hair just below his belly-button. With a grunt, he slides out from beneath the Dodge model, grease staining his entire upper body.

"Hey...?" He looks up at his from his spot on the ground, rubbing the stubble on his chin confused as he sits straight on the concrete.

"H-hi," you wave awkwardly, standing a safe distance away from him with Mei. You crouch down to your daughters level. "My daughter helped me make a pie for you as a little welcome gift. Go on, sweetheart," you pat her back softly, urging her to walk up to the newcomer. Like an excited puppy, Mei marches over to the handsome man, presenting the tupperware to him like a trophy.

"My momma put lotsa love into this, so you better like it, mister!" she demands, and the man chuckles softly at the order.

"I definitely will, kiddo. Apple pie's my favourite," he smiles gently before setting his sights on you. His blue eyes were illuminated perfectly by the sun as he looked over to you. "Thank you. My name's Leon, by the way. Uh, Leon Kennedy," he nods over at you as he takes the container from Mei's hands.

"O-oh, right! We didn't really introduce ourselves yesterday," you blush, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. You quickly introduce yourself and your daughter, stuttering all the while. It had been quite a long time since you had spoken to a man.

"Nice to meet you," Leon lets out a low laugh as he looks down at the pie. His eyes widen when he realizes it's shaped like an actual apple, but he makes no move to say anything as a twinge of pink crawls up his neck. "This looks... delicious," he drools, and you thank him for the compliment.

"Best eat it now! It's tastes the best when it's fresh," you smile, and he hums in response.

"U-uh, I think I'll eat it now, actually. Needed to take a break anywa-ngh—!" Mei slams her pudgy palm on top of Leon's mop of brown hair, causing the poor man to grunt. It didn't hurt, but it clearly caught him by surprise. You panic just like the day before and attempt to pull your cherub away from your neighbour, embarrassment filling your body.

"Mei-Mei! I told you that you can't just touch people like that!" You scold her lightly.

"Agh, don't yell at her—It's alright," the brunette assures you, standing up. His boots click against the concrete as he stands close.

"Please, excuse her, she's just very excited to have a new friend."

"Hey, hey—it's fine. Here," Leon ducks his head down enough for Mei to reach out. She turns her body in your arms, hands outstretching to thread into the man's hair. Unconsciously, you move closer to Leon as your daughter plays with his hair. The sight made your heart melt.

When Mei has her fill, Leon stands straight and gives you a warm smile. He has a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place, but you choose not to think about it.

"I, uhm..." you think of what to say, your eyes darting from each feature on his stubbly face. "We won't bother you now. I-if you need, something, we'll be a knock away!" you nervously ramble, slowly backing away from the gentleman.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," he coughs out, a dust of pink brushing the tip of nose. Leon watches as you turn your back to him, wiggling his fingers at the little one that waved at him from your shoulders. He walks over to the tupperware sitting on the floor of his garage after you walk into your house, entering his own with the pie in his hands.

You don't know about how the tupperware was licked clean, not even a crumb of the crust to be seen as the container is left on Leon's dining table. The next day, a knock on your door distracts you from your dishwashing.

He wasn't lying about apple pie being his favourite.

yeah im definitely going to turn this into a fic series or something i love domestic fluff i am so normal about dilf leon IM MAKING THIS HAPPEN

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil/biohazard #fanfic #resident evil 4 remake #biohazard #>>letter responses #resident evil: damnation #resident evil: infinite darkness #infinite darkness leon kennedy #damnation leon kennedy #domestic fluff #leon kennedy x reader fluff

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dixons-sunshine · 7 months ago

Note

👉👈 Because your my fav writer for Dad Daryl 👉👈 Just wondering if you’d consider him stepping up as a parental figure for his niece (Merle’s kid) after he “died” and when he actually died 👉👈

I'm Right Here | Uncle!Daryl Dixon x Niece!Reader (platonic/familial)

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With Merle gone, you were the only family Daryl had left. He had unofficially stepped up as your dad, and in those eight months with your actual father "dead", Daryl was a better dad than Merle ever was. And he proved it in more ways than one, even before Merle went missing.

Genre: Fluff, some light angst.

Era: The Quarry, The Prison (season three).

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and death, fear of abandonment.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: I've been bouncing back and forth between fics and finally managed to finish this. Next up is I Never Lived For The Applause, and then some more young!Daryl. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Hey, kiddo. Ya alrigh'?”

“I'm fine. The walkers didn't get me,” you tried to reassure him. “You didn't find my dad?”

You looked up at the sound of your uncle's voice, meeting his intense gaze. You gave him a small, unconvincing smile that he could see through instantly.

Daryl sat down on the log next to you, placing his crossbow down on the ground. He stared ahead at the ashes of the prior night's fire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Nah. Wasn't nothin' to find 'cept his hand. He had to cut it off.”

You winced, absentmindedly grabbing your own hand at the mere thought of the pain that it must've caused your father. Despite your strained relationship with the man for obvious reasons, he didn't deserve that fate—to lose his hand because some people couldn't find another way to deal with his temper.

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your heart break. Despite everything, Merle was your father and you loved him. At least he had stuck around. The same couldn't be said for your mother, who had dropped you on Merle's doorstep the moment you were born.

“Yeah,” Daryl responded, instantly picking up on your downtrodden mood but not knowing how to bring you comfort in a moment like that. He'd just essentially told you, his thirteen year old niece that was so wise beyond her years due to the shit Merle had gotten into, that your father was most likely dead. It tore him apart to have to bestow that news on you, but it was necessary. What could he do, lie to you? That was out of the question.

You blinked the tears away that had started to well up in your eyes, trying to put on a brave face for your uncle. “Looks like it's just us now, huh, uncle Daryl? The two remaining Dixons.”

Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile and ruffled your hair, chuckling quietly at the sound of protest you let out. “Looks like it. We're gon' give the world hell, ya and I. Jus' like the old times.”

You smiled up at him. Even though your father was gone, you still had your uncle, and that made you feel better about everything.

“We are. The world ain't ready for us.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“It won't work.”

“S'gotta.”

“It'll stir things up,” Rick told Daryl, adamant with his decision.

“Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison righ' now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle,” Daryl replied defiantly, glancing between his companions on the road.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol, Beth or Y/n?” Glenn questioned, unwilling to let Merle, a known hothead and former drug user, near the people he's come to care about.

“He ain't a rapist,” Daryl responded, frowning at Glenn's accusation. “And he sure as hell wouldn't touch his own daughter like tha'. Merle may be sick in some ways, but he ain't like tha'.”

“Yeah, okay, but his buddy is.”

“They ain't buddies no more. Not after last nigh'.”

Rick chipped in to the conversation, turning the archer's attention back to him. “There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats.”

“What, so ya'd cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” Daryl asked, motioning over to Michonne who was waiting for them by the car.

“She's not coming back with us.”

“She's not in a state to be on her own,” Maggie denied, giving Rick a pointed look.

Glenn nodded in agreement to his girlfriend's statement. “She did bring you guys to us.”

“And then ditched us,” Rick stated in a bored tone, eyeing Michonne warily.

“At least let my dad stitch her up?” Maggie asked.

“It's too unpredictable,” Rick denied vehemently, shaking his head.

Daryl nodded in agreement. “He's righ', we dun' know who she is. But Merle... Merle's blood.”

“No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison,” Glenn countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're part of that family,” Rick told Daryl, looking at him expectantly. “He's not. He's not.”

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering over his decisions. Thoughts of leaving with Merle, going off and fending for themselves like the old days flashed through his mind, but then he thought of you. You, his sweet, kind, low-key badass, now fourteen year old niece who he'd gone to great lengths to protect over the past eight months. The girl who he'd been taking care of since his brother "died", the girl who had unknowingly started to feel like his own daughter, though he would never tell Merle that. And at that moment, he knew he couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

“Man, wha' do y'all expect me to tell my niece?” Daryl began, effectively silencing everyone. “Tha' I found her father after all this time and he's alive, but he couldn't come back to her 'cause y'all said so? How's tha' gon' fly with her? Ya'd really deprive the girl a chance at gettin' her father back 'cause of wha' might happen?”

That seemed to really make everyone reconsider. Even Glenn didn't have a counter argument now. Everything was silent for a good thirty seconds while Rick weighed his options, exchanging wordless exchanges with Maggie and Glenn. It was clear that nobody wanted it, but the group couldn't deny Daryl's argument. They cared about you, and it would be unfair for them to deny you the chance of getting your father back.

Rick turned and whistled, signalling Merle over. When he stood in front of him, Rick gripped him by his shirt, getting into his face.

“You're coming with us, but this isn't an invitation for you to be a jackass with everyone back at the prison. The only reason you're even coming back is because of your daughter. If it wasn't for her, you'd be gone.”

Merle's eyes widened the slightest bit with surprise, but it soon morphed back into his usual careless look. “Well, would ya look at tha'. My lil' girl still lives. M'surprised, quite honestly. Didn't think she was built fer this world. Kinda expected her to have kicked the bucket by now.”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl's voice boomed unexpectedly, shutting his brother up. “Dun' make me regret convincin' them to bring ya back. And if ya even say one degradin' thing to yer daughter, I will personally gut ya and feed ya to the walkers. Tha' kid's been through 'nough.”

Unbeknownst to either brother, Rick, Glenn and Maggie had walked ahead to get everything settled into the car, leaving the two brothers to their feud. It was a good idea, too. That was a family matter.

“Wha', ya actually care 'bout her now? Didn't see ya stickin' 'round to play pretend with her back before the world went to shit, and now yer tryna tell me how to parent my own child? Nah, lil' bro. Tha' ain't how it works.”

Daryl scoffed and shoved past him, walking over to the car. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of Merle's laughter, rolling his eyes at it. He pressed forward and slipped into the passenger's seat, not missing the way everyone tensed up when Merle got into the car.

He just hoped that he hadn't made the wrong decision by bringing Merle back.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

You and Carl were rushing over to the gates when you saw the familiar vehicle enter the courtyard. The car was noticeably more crowded, and with one glance through the window, you were relieved to see your uncle. You had been so worried that something might have happened to him, but there he was, relatively unscathed.

Daryl was barely out of the car when you practically launched yourself into his arms. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, hugging you tightly to him. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of your sniffles.

“Hey, kiddo, s'alrigh'. M'okay,” he reassured you in whispered tones, rubbing his hand up and down your back in comfort.

“I was so scared. I couldn't stop fearing the worst,” you choked out, trying to will the sobs away. You buried your face into your uncle's shirt, dampening it slightly with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

“M'righ' here. I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise,” he assured you. “No more tears, alrigh'? Ain't no more need fer 'em.”

“Well, ain't this jus' sweet.”

A familiar raspy voice met your ears. You tensed up, pulling away from the hug and turning around, facing the man you had thought to be dead for eight months—your father, Merle Dixon.

“Wha', no hugs fer yer old man, girl?” Merle asked, a grin on his face as he extended his arms in a silent invitation for a hug. “Yer not gon' greet the man who helped with givin' ya life?”

Subconsciously, you took a step back. Daryl stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. He gave Merle a warning glare before turning to you.

“Why dun' ya go help Hershel with tha' lady we brought back? I know he's been teachin' ya some medical things. It'd do ya good to learn how to do stitches.” You nodded, understanding his underlying message and sped off, leaving him alone with Merle. Daryl turned to face him, a glare on his face. “Man, back the hell off. She ain't gotta give ya anythin' if she dun' want to.”

“Because I was with the enemy?”

“'Cause yer a simple minded piece of shit who never even bothered to play dolls with her, much less give her hugs! Ya wanna know somethin'? When tha' lady dropped her off on our doorstep, who do ya think took care of her when yer ass was too high or drunk to? To answer yer question from earlier, I did stick 'round. I changed her diapers. I bathed her, fed her, stayed up with her at nigh' when ya wouldn't. I took care of her. Ya were jus' too fuckin' out of it most of the time to realise it! Hell, did ya think those things happened magically?”

“Now listen here, bro—” Merle started, but Daryl didn't light up.

“And when she got older, who the hell do ya think took her to school? Picked her up, encouraged her to do the spelling bee, went to parent teacher conferences? Do ya think the fuckin' tooth fairy did tha'? Say wha' ya want, bro, but she dun' owe ya shit. Ya may not have been like dad, but ya weren't a good father, either.”

Merle stayed silent for a moment, the weight of his brother's final statement weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then why the hell did ya convince 'em to bring me back?”

“'Cause despite everythin', tha' girl still loves ya. And she deserves to have her father 'round,” Daryl responded simply before turning around and stalking off, leaving Merle alone and dumbfounded.

Merle Dixon wasn't right about most things, but one thing he knew for certain he was right about was that you probably didn't care whether he was dead or not. If what Daryl was saying was true, you didn't need him. You had a perfectly good father figure in your life already. Daryl had been a better father to you than your actual father was.

And for some unknown reason, that crushed Merle's heart.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You found him like that?”

Daryl's heart shattered at the broken sound of your voice. It was the second time that he had needed to tell you that Merle was dead, but this time, it was real. Your father's lifeless corpse layed motionless six feet in the ground in the designated graveyard, Daryl having dragged him there and buried him.

Daryl nodded. “Found him as a walker. He had tried to kill the governor but failed. Son of a bitch got to him first.”

“I should've stopped him. I should've known that something was wrong,” you said, a sob threatening to escape your body. “Before he left, he told me that he was proud of me. That he loved me. I should've known that there was a reason to it. He never told me that before. I should've—”

A choked up sob finally fell past your lips. Daryl instinctively pulled you into his arms, offering to be the pillar of strength for you as you crumbled. Despite everything, Merle was still your father. You still had a handful of good memories with the man—when he wasn't drunk or high, Merle was an okay father. But just okay.

It took a while, but you finally managed to calm down. Instinctively, Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, running his hand soothingly over your back.

“S'alrigh', kiddo,” he whispered soothingly.

You didn't know what made you say what you said next. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't thinking straight. Maybe it was because you were desperately looking for a pillar of support, you didn't know. But before you could stop it, the words slipped past your lips—

“Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too, Dad.”

A moment of silence passed. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile spread over Daryl's face. He pulled you closer to him.

“Ya still got me. M'here and I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. Yer stuck with me.”

Merle Dixon wasn't always a good man. He wasn't always a good father either. But in the midst of a cruel world, before and after the dead started walking, Merle managed to give Daryl a sweet gift—you, his daughter. Because despite biological relations, you were now truly his.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #merle dixon #the walking dead

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

Text

The Hour of the Wolf

Prologue

MASTERLIST

Summary: The dark hours before the end of Aegon Targaryen II

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, talks about bedding and non concensual sexual relationships, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Notes: A bit short, but I'm setting a tone here

Corlys could sense the tension in the room, everyone, at least, the survivors, were dangerously quiet, they shared concerned looks between them all.

Alicent’s mouth always seemed to be twisted in inhumane ways, but now… the edges of her mouth almost falls down of her face by her chin

“All the traitors are going to die”, said Aegon, twisting his hands, playing with the rings he had placed in his fingers… trying to hide the fact that they were burnt, the skin melted. He used now high colored shirts and vests, but the still raw, tender skin that was never going to heal, could still be seen in the side of his face, no matter he had decided to let his wild hair ungroomed, fall long framed his chubby face.

“We will be overrun”, admitted Corlys, “A Northerner army, a big one, is passing trough Harrenhal right now, they had been joined by people in the Riverlands that still are faithful to Rhaenyra’s cause, and also from the Vale in the Narrow Sea, we will be defeated, and we will burn inside this walls”, he sentenced

“I think the Velaryon Fleet needs incentive, Lord Corlys, to face the traitors of the Vale”, two years ago, the council would have laughed to the drunken fool’s face that called himself King, but as they looked into his wild lilac eyes… no one laughed

Corlys was the only one to dare directly into his eyes

In defiance

Say it

He begged him with a silent threat in his dark eyes

Do it

Threaten me

“I think we need to send a little message…”, he continued, “I want my little nephew’s cock on a platter, and that little whore… in my chambers by the time we finish here, maybe that way, if we send them a set of sheets with my niece’s maidenhead in them, perhaps we will tell the fucking traitors what will happen to them all”

“Take the black, your grace, step down”

“I will kill them, to every last trace of my cunt of a half sister, i will take away the reason for their rebellion, they were be no other contender to the throne but me, and I will marry Cassandra Baratheon, she will give me true, strong heirs, worthy of the Iron Throne”

“Your grace”, he said slowly. “maybe, telling them of your marriage with the princess, instead of her bloodied sheets would be more effective”, he counseled

“He is right Aegon”, said Alicent softly, “an alliance between the two branches of the family will ease them, and Cregan Stark, when knowing Rhaenyra’s blood will sit on the Iron Throne one day, he will go back North”, she said hopefully, she placed her hand on his son forearm, but he pulled it, rejecting his mother’s touch

“Bring her to my chambers tonight”, he said to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he didn't like it, but nodded nonetheless without saying anything

“Aegon”, reasoned Alicent, “she is very delicate, and an innocent in all of this”

“Isn’t she the daughter of my whore of a sister?”, he mocked, Alicent said nothing as she played with her fingers nervously, “isn’t she what you called her a thousand times over? a bastard?”

“That doesn’t mean… we will be surrounded”

“Call in Lord Borros then, they will attack the traitors from the back, and killed them against the city walls”, he mocked

“Lord Borros is dead your grace”, said Corlys, playing with the dragon eye in front of him, he then stopped, and look up at him, he found the twisted King looking back at him with a sick smile

“Right, sometimes I forget”, he said dismissively, he took the chalice of wine next to him and took it to his lips

5 minutes without drinking

A new record

“the Lannisters then”, he said

“By the time the Lannister piece together the scraps left of their army, our head will be at stakes at the gates of the city”, Lord Corlys debated, Larys Strong only got quiet, looking to the left and to the right, who was next to speak, who was next to loose his temper. It was truly entertaining

“We hold the city”, he mocked, “we will close the gates and those savages will be scratching their heads, wondering how they could breach the walls, they don’t have siege weapons

“What they have is the rest of the country’s resources, while they starved us to death”, he fought again

“Not if your armada defeats the Arryn’s, as they should”

Then finally, his crazy, deranged eyes stopped at the face of Corlys Velaryon

“I will cut your granddaughter's ear and sent it to Alyn Velaryon, to go and encourage him to fight the fucking traitors”

That was it

“That is not going to be necessary, your grace, Alyn will fight the Arryn fleet, there is no doubt in my mind, I will send word to him personally”

“there shouldn’t be no need”, he snapped, “I am the King!”, he said, pointing to his own chest, “and they are loyal to me, they will fight”, Corlys nodded

That was it then

They shared looks with Tyland Lannister

His fate was set

The small council meeting was done, and everyone return to their chambers, it was already the hour of the owl, the Keep was dark, very lighten up, it lost ghostly, like it had been abandoned

Corlys walked silently to his chambers, as a maid passed by him, he gave her a small sack and nodded, she barely looked at him and walked away

It was sealed

“Where is the princess?”, he asked the guard posted at her rooms, he shook his head, the Sea Snake barely nodded, “keep her there”, he commanded, and kept walking

He needed his wits, he was going to need every ounce of diplomacy he still held to survive the coming weeks

A pack of wolves was coming

And they were going to ravage every Green that still drew breath

There had never lived a Stark who forgot an oath

Cregan Stark had promised Rhaenyra he was going to raise an army and march south to guard her and destroy her enemies that still were raising arms

Rhaenyra was dead

And yet the wolf was coming to fulfill his promise

. . .

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros”, she sang softly, grabbing tightly the small incense in her hand, “Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis”, she kept lighting up the candles, “Hen ñuhā elēnī, Perzyssy vestretis”, she wavered, looking up at the skull of Balerion, “Se gēlȳn irūdaks. Ānogrose, Perzyro udrȳssi”, she moved to the next table, lighting up the small candles one by one, it could be maddening, but she had been here every night, “Ezīmptos laehossi”, she continued, “Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan, Hae mērot gierūli”, she looked up at the huge skull again, hoping, praying for something, like he was going to brought the black dread back to life

“Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī”, she finished the song with a single tear falling down her cheek

“Balerion, Jaes morgho, mazēdas ñuha lentor, sir gūrogon zirȳla, nyke jorepagon syt se morghon hen dārys”

[Balerion, god of death, he took my family, now take him, I pray to you for the death of the Usurper], she whispered

She looked down at the candles, as she played with her fingers in the small flames, she could feel nothing, her skin didn't melt, unlike her sleeve

“Morghūljagon”, she whispered, extinguishing the flames from a simple blow of her lips

Die.

#misguidedhour #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction

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storm-angel989 · 5 months ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do valentine's daughter where she gets hurt during an exterminator.

Like let's say she is six or something and she gets curious on why she has to be in her room on a specific day and the vees won't tell her anything just that it's a 'special' day.

So one day when no one is looking she go's outside to see what so 'special' about it.

Just to be chase by some angles luckily the Vees see her with one of the many cameras in the city and save her. But she get a scar from it.

How would the vees react to it?

Also hope your have a nice day!

Hi All,

This is the prompt this post should answer- in all my tiredness last night I posted to the wrong request! Rest assured I'm working on this request above- so many google docs and ideas, so little time!

Anonymous asked:

Dude, what about a Valentino x Daughter! Reader where they forget the door open or something like that, and she decides to go out (she's like, 3/4 years old) and when she comes back, she's holding a random cat and wants to keep it. I think it would be pretty funny lol

Also, i love your content!! 💕

So sorry!

<3 Mandy

Hi friend,

Such a busy weekend! But this light topic is one that popped into my head right before bed- so I had to write it! Enjoy!

Best,

Mandy

“What do you mean you can’t find the baby?” Valentino screamed as he slammed his hands into Vox’s desk. “Where the fuck is my daughter?

In front of him, images flashed. Inside the building, outside, all throughout pentagram city. A still screen time stamped five minutes ago of his daughter wandering out the backdoor, propped open with nothing more than a wedge of cardboard.

“I told those fuckers,” Vox began.

“Find her, now,” Valentino cut him off. “I don’t care what you do, I’m going outside to…”

“Daddy, kitty!”

Both men turned around to where Reader stood, cradling a black and white cat. They stared at her in a mix of horror and disbelief.

“Bebita, are you okay?” Valentino demanded as he ran to his daughter.

She took a step back. “Daddy no. You’ll scare kitty.”

Valentino stared at the creature clutched in his daughter's arms. Not only was the cat almost as big as she, but it truly was taking being held in a toddler’s death grip incredibly well.

“Where the fuck did you find a cat?” He demanded.

“Outside,” Reader replied nonchalantly. “Kitty needs home.”

“Oh fuck no, kitty does not need a home,” Vox began.

An expression crossed Valentino’s face. He stood up and turned to Vox. “You’re the one who lost my daughter. You tell her she can’t keep it. And no cheating.”

Vox set his jaw and stared at his niece and her newfound companion. “Reader. Sweetheart. You can’t…give Uncle Voxxy the cat.” He knelt down and reached out as if to take the cat from his arms.

To his dismay, the cat hissed.

“My kitty!” She yelled and she turned away. “My kitty!”

“You know what, fine. Keep the cat, I don’t care,” Vox said with defeat. “I can’t say no to you.”

“My kitty!” Reader sang as she turned away. “My kitty need snack. Daddy? Snacks.”

Valentino glanced at Vox with an amused expression on his face. He turned away to follow his daughter back to the elevator.

“Your responsibility now,” he said aloud to Vox. “Feed it. Clean it. And if something happens to it, its on you.”

“Fuck me,” Vox groaned as the door shut. “Fuuuuccckkkkk”

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mrs-kmikaelson · 1 year ago

Text

04| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Elijah Mikaelson x niece!reader Summary: A while after the party, you're approached by Elijah at Rousseau's who has a request that you would've never expected. Warnings: none Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | Part 5

I shook a cocktail shaker vigorously before pouring whatever pink liquid it was into a glass and sliding it over to the customer on the other side of the counter, running a hand through my hair right afterward as I glanced around at the full bar.

Full fucking bar and I'm the only person here.

Camille had a date with Marcel tonight, but there was no one else who could possibly take her shift tonight because there was no one else working tonight. I told her I could cover for her because I had experience bartending in the eighties, but I didn't know it was gonna be like this.

I guess there was some sort of festival going on tonight, but in New Orleans, when isn't there?

It's been a week since the Mikaelsons through their party, a week since I had my 'family reunion', and I haven't seen any of them since. Don't know if I'm happy about that or not.

I sighed, tossing back a shot of my own before moving onto the next customer. I'll overthink later.

"Drinking on the job?" Or not.

Speak of the fucking devil, because I looked up and, sitting in the stool in front of me, was Elijah Mikaelson. He had a small, playful smirk on his lips, leaned back in his chair nonchalantly, but not in a way that made him look like he wasn't alert, but in a way that showed the world he wouldn't even dream of someone stepping to him.

I forced a laugh, wiping down a glass while I responded, "Yeah, well it's a little hard to be surrounded by all this and not get any." He smiled, nodding while I threw the rag over my shoulder. Inside, I was shaking, but I tried my hardest to treat him like he was any other person so he wouldn't take notice.

I raised my brows. "Let me guess, whiskey? No- bourbon?" I didn't wait for a reply and grabbed the bottle while Elijah chuckled.

"Bourbon would be nice, thank you, Y/N," he said. I wonder if he had an inkling how freaked out I was that he remembered my name.

Half of me was hoping they'd forget all about me. The other half, well... I tried not to give that one a microphone.

I handed him the glass in a hurry, hoping to get away from him as fast as possible, but of course, the universe wasn't so kind because he stopped me, calling my name when I turned around.

Fuckkkk. I screwed my eyes shut before spinning back around with that perfect customer service smile on my face.

"Good luck," he said, and my brows furrowed. He saw the confusion on my face and nodded to the rest of the bar, elaborating, "With the customers." I held in a sigh of relief and smiled to him in thanks, moving on.

I'd normally ask customers how they were doing, what brought them to Rousseau's, but not only did I not have enough time what with all the customers, but I also did not feel like making conversation with Elijah Mikaelson after I've been drinking.

So, to resolve my frazzled state that was typically caused by drinking, I drank some more. And I continued to work, per usual, trying to bring my mind back to positive memories of me in the past instead of the dramas of my present.

I was in auto-pilot, serving customers while drifting off into a world of my own, thinking about a time when I wasn't so obsessed with finding my family. The reason why was that I already had one.

My mother and I were very close when I was young, and she did everything she could to protect me before the world took her from me, taking me in the process. Niklaus, obviously, was never in the picture.

He and his entire family did not even know I existed. For all I knew, Klaus just had a one-night stand with my mother and never saw her again. So there was no way he could ever find out who I was, not on his own. But Elijah... Elijah was as smart as Klaus was strong. I didn't want to talk to him too often and have him put together any puzzle pieces.

The night went on without any interruptions. I periodically checked the clock. Rousseau's closed a bit later than usual bars since it was in the middle of the Quarter, but I only had about an hour left before both my shift was over and the bar closed. Thank the heavens.

Things were going as smoothly as far as I could tell what with me half listening to everything going on, but suddenly, I was brought back to my sense by someone yelling.

My head shot up and, on the other side of the bar, I saw two people I recognized almost immediately, a man and a woman. The man was a member of Marcel's crew, and the girl was a witch I was familiar with since Marcel left the witch dealings to me back when practicing magic wasn't punishable by fucking death.

The vampire, Dimitri, was yelling obscenities at Talia, the witch, as she yelled over him. He went to shove her and, without thinking, I rushed over in a blur and blocked him with my arm, separating them both.

"Break it up right. now," I ordered, glaring at them both but mostly Dimitri. He always bugged me. The bar was less full now and I could tell that people had stopped to watch the encounter.

Talia crossed her arms and Dimitri glared back at me. "She's being a fucking bitch, Y/N-"

She scoffed, "Oh, would you just-"

I raised my voice. "Both of you, enough!" They both stopped and stared at me. "As far as I'm concerned, neither of you should even be talking to each other right now, much less arguing or physically fighting. That's violating so many different agreements at once." This time Dimitri scoffed and so I turned to him, raising a brow, feeling the annoyance in me bubble. "What, do you have something to say?"

He looked at me and smirked in a way that made me want to bite into his neck or turn his blood to acid, and responded, "Yeah- those were your rules when Marcel ran the city and let his bitch boss us around-"

I cut him off, an incredulous look on my face. "His what?"

He ignored me. "But the Mikaelsons are in charge now, and he is not," he boasted. "Which means- neither are you." His smirk widened like he'd just made some huge declaration, like he was in the one in control here.

But he couldn't be more wrong. You see, Marcel left negotiations to me, knowing I could talk to people a little better than he could. And since I kept the peace for him, he let me make a few rules. I was in charge, and I'd be damned if I let some newbie vampire think he bested me.

I took a step closer to him, ready to fucking tell him how it is, but before I could even get a word out, someone had sped right next to me and cut me off.

I looked up, startled, and was even more surprised when I saw that the man that had sped over was Elijah. Fan-fuckin-tastic.

Talia took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself while Dimitri swallowed. Elijah smiled a tight-lipped smile, staring at Dimitri in a way that would be perceived to be friendly if it were anyone else, but with him, it just looked condescending. With one gaze, he was saying he was better than you without ever really having to say it.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I would rather not stand and watch this altercation from the sidelines," he expressed. "See, in my time, you'd treat a woman with respect, and it looks to me that you are treating both of these young women with anything but." I held back a snort at the 'young' bit. I'm older than Dimitri by a long shot, but I get the memo.

Dimitri stuttered back, but couldn't form a response. "I-"

"You what? You think that because the Mikaelsons are in charge now that you can run amuck and act as you please?" Elijah paused as if he was waiting for an answer and scoffed when he didn't get one. "Well, I am a Mikaelson," he announced, "and right now I am granting you the privilege of walking away from this because, from what I can see, Y/N holds more relevance than you do or ever have." Not once did he glare at Dimitri, simply holding his stare strongly, and Dimitri most definitely tried to hold that stare in challenge, but after a few seconds, he gave up, swallowing, and walking away quickly.

Elijah's lips curved slightly before they were forced down as he held back a smirk, turning to me and Talia. She nodded at Elijah--in thanks, I'd assume--and he reciprocated the action before she, too, walked away, leaving just me and him standing there.

I looked around at the rest of the bar and realized that everyone left was supernatural in one way or another, or at least knew about it because everyone had returned to their own conversations, not even batting an eye at the inhuman speed displayed.

Elijah glanced around too before looking back to me and nodding towards the door. I quickly understand the motion and nodded back. He wanted to get away from the prying ears, but I could do him one better.

I raised my voice and exclaimed to the crowd, "Sorry guys, party's over!" I heard a few groans and Elijah raised a brow at me, but I ignored it. It was closing time, anyway. "You can go home now! Like right now." I saw some people about to protest, but one look from Elijah and they were silenced. They did not want to fuck with that.

The clear-out was one of the fastest ones I'd ever seen, especially on a night like this, but in minutes, the bar was empty. When I was sure no one else was around, I finally looked at Elijah and felt my previous nervousness return, but still chastised, "I had that handled."

Instead of being offended, he gave me that same smile he's been smiling all night and told me, "I know. But I couldn't help myself." Although that was meant to be somewhat of an apology, there was a smugness in it that I couldn't stand.

I hummed in a way I hope 'bullshit' was conveyed, turning around the clean up the bar. He chuckled. Good, message received then.

Even I was a little surprised with how bold I was being, but I guess that, even after 500 years, alcohol still gave me a little courage.

I picked up the glasses people had left scattered, putting them into the sink and tidying everything up so that, tomorrow, Camille wouldn't have to deal with any of it.

"So you handled business for Marcel?" I glanced at him to see his hand casually tucked into a pocket of his slack. Again, it was such a small, insignificant stance, but there was just something about it that made you want to fold into yourself.

I looked back to the glasses I was scrubbing, affirming, "Yeah, I'd negotiate with all sides to come to agreements we could all, well, agree on, I guess."

His lip quirked up as he sat down on a barstool right in front of me. I wordlessly handed him a glass and a bottle of bourbon, and the small quirk of his lips became a grin.

While he poured himself a glass, I kept working on the dishes and decided to make small talk so I didn't look like an alien creature that didn't know how to communicate with others.

"You've been here a while, and it's just after closing now. What's the occasion- or is it more of a you just needed a drink kind of occasion?"

Even though my back was turned, it was still like I could sense him smirking. "It's the latter," he revealed. "In fact, I'm drinking because of the disagreements within the factions."

"Oh?" I kept scrubbing.

He continued, "Yes. It's the same story every time: everyone wants power and no one is satisfied with what they have."

I snorted, "Yeah, Tears For Fears wasn't kidding. Everybody really does want to rule the world." And that was a joke, but it was completely true, especially in a city like New Orleans.

"Precisely that, Y/N. And Niklaus-" I refrained from taking in a breath. "Oh, my brother is not handling it well." I'd imagine he wasn't. From what I've heard about Klaus, he didn't take kindly to people trying take what he thought was rightfully his. That's why he tried banishing Marcel, even though he was meant to be like a son to him.

I scoffed at that in my head. Klaus was a father to Marcel, raised Marcel, and was gonna raise another child in the near future, and yet he'd never even met me.

My brain was bombarded with the thoughts I tried to keep in at that moment. I wondered if he knew about me at all, if he knew and just didn't care, or if he had no idea of my existence. I wonder what he'd do if he knew. Would he care?

I pushed back those thoughts and shook my head, bringing myself back to the conversation and replying, "That's pretty expected. I mean, it took Marcel years to create what he had, and he also had me to keep the peace, too, so it's different."

Elijah hummed, briefly reminding me of Klaus. For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the scrub-a-dub-dubbing I was doing and the steady response I was getting from him stopped. Until he resumed with enough fervour to knock me out.

"And what if we had you to keep the peace for us?""

I dropped the glass I was scrubbing in shock, quickly using my speed to stop it from hitting the sink and breaking. I put the glass down and turned the faucet off, turning to face him fully. I was half expecting to see a smile on his face, for him to tell me he was joking, but he had a completely serious look on his face.

If I didn't know any better, I'd see he even looked hopeful.

I looked at him, analyzing his face for a few seconds before lowering my guard slightly for the first time around a Mikaelson and whispering, "Oh my God, you're not kidding."

He smiled a little. "No, Y/N, I'm afraid I'm not." I blew out a breath through my lips, feeling the gears in my head turn 70 miles an hour.

What the fuck?

He's asking me to work for them.

My family.

Me.

Klaus' daughter.

But they don't know that.

No, they don't know about my relation to them. But Elijah does know that Marcel's my friend. I made this known, just in case he forgot in the few seconds it'd been since it'd been brought up. "You do know Marcel's my friend, right? Maybe even my best friend, if you want to get technical."

He took a sip of his bourbon before responding, "Yes, I'm aware."

I nodded. "Right, so then you know why I cant accept that offer." I wasn't thinking about the opportunity or power or really anything important at that moment. I was thinking about Marcel. And I was thinking about how coincidental it was that, a week after I got back to the city, Elijah takes interest in me of all people.

Maybe it's not a coincidence, my subconscious reasoned.

Oh, but hell, I really hoped it was.

Elijah took another sip of his drink. "You know these people, they trust you." I gave him a look, but hid my skepticism at the way he phrased his sentence. He said it like he already knew about my history with the factions. Honestly, knowing him, he probably did.

He used my silence and went on, "Arrangements could be made about Marcellus." My brows raised at that. "I'm fine with negotiating, Y/N."

I narrowed my eyes. He was to trying to broker a deal with me. Smart. But a Mikaelson choosing to negotiate for someone with as little 'relevance' as me is odd, to say the least.

I stared at him for a few seconds before stating the obvious. "I have a feeling your brother wouldn't like what exactly you're offering me."

Elijah chuckled, shaking his head. "Believe me, Y/N, I don't have much care for what my brother does or doesn't like at the moment."

I pursed my lips, running it all over in my head in disbelief that I was even considering it. The offer alone was suspicious, but the situation was riskier than many situations I'd put myself into in my lifetime, and that was saying something.

I'd been chasing after the Mikaelsons for ages, watching the family I never got from a distance, the always and forever I wasn't apart of. Right now, Elijah Mikaelson was offering up the opportunity to see them up close on a silver platter, and I was hesitant?

I held Elijah's stare, contemplating. And perhaps it was the alcohol that made the decision for me, but soon enough I found my mouth opening, words spilling out of it. "Marcel is allowed back into the Quarter, and him and Klaus call a truce." He didn't flinch. "You agree to that, and you have yourself a deal."

Elijah continued to stare at me in silence for a few seconds after that, and as time passed, I began to think I royally fucked up, trying to order him around, but he proved me a wrong by holding a hand out. I looked at it in bewilderment.

"You have yourself a deal, Miss Y/L/N." I held back any surprise at the fact that he knew my surname when I never gave it to him, but really, there was nothing to be surprised about.

I reluctantly reached out and clasped my hand in his, ignoring the rush of power I felt when my skin made contact with his and tried not to show it on my face.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #tvd #tvdu #tvd fandom #tvd fanfiction #the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #camille o'connell

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